


This Beautiful Mess

by dreaminginscenes



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Buckle up, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Professors, Rated M for strippers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Will update tags as we go, in this for the long haul people, strippers and professors, yeah you heard me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminginscenes/pseuds/dreaminginscenes
Summary: At a certain point, you should start paying attention to coincidences instead of resisting them.When an insane coincidence leads two grad students —Rapunzel and Eugene— into an odd two-way student-professor scenario, it begs the question of what other plans Fate may have in store for them.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. An Odd Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

> So you know those aus that do a really elegant job of molding the story into something new but are still true to the original source material?
> 
> This is like when you order a smoothie at Jamba Juice and change so many ingredients it’s not even the same drink anymore but they still have to put it down as the original one on the receipt.
> 
> That’s this AU. Have fun.

The first day of a new semester was always the worst.

Eugene ran the towel through his damp hair. Why he had let his nieces sign him up for a 9am art class was beyond him. Even worse, it was an art class for _undergrads._ Ugh. He didn’t need to take “fun” classes during his graduate program, but those rascals he called nieces were persistent that he needed a “fun” class to “spice up” his regular routine.

Please. He knew _plenty_ about spicing things up.

Eugene threw the towel around his bare shoulders and hit play on his usual morning music. Upbeat, catchy, a little raunchy; a good way to start a January morning after a quick wake-up work-out. As he went through his grooming routine, Eugene idly hummed with the songs that rotated through his daily playlist. It was fun music, but he didn’t really pay attention to it anymore. It was just white noise as he got the perfect shave and perfect swoop to his dark chocolate hair. Maybe he spent too much time on his appearance. _But can anyone blame me?_ He thought as he shot his reflection a finger gun.

Pawing and whimpering at the bathroom door caught his attention. “I’m coming…let me at least get half-decent.”

He quickly shimmied on his jeans before opening the bathroom door to the whining dog on the other side. Eugene’s gigantic white Great Pyrenees roommate gruffed in what could only be annoyance. 

“What?” Eugene set a hand on his hip. “Did you miss me, Max?”

Max let out a deep _borf_ that seemed to say he was _not_ amused.

“Ohhh come on boy!” Eugene got down on his knees to give Max a good scratch at the sweet spot on his neck. “Don’t be so sour! I already fed you and everybody else!”

Max’s tongue lolled out and gave Eugene a slobbery kiss good morning.

Eugene sputtered as he was accosted by dog breath but couldn’t help smiling at the affection. “Yeah yeah, that’s what I thought, you big lug. Come on, I gotta get myself some breakfast.” Max came trotting at Eugene’s heels as he strolled through the humble apartment.

“Morning, Pascal.” Eugene commented in passing to the chameleon lounging on a houseplant. Pascal croaked indignantly and blew a tiny raspberry. 

Eugene took a quick second to glower at the reptile. “Don’t give me that, Frog. I may be running a little late, but I’m not _that_ late. Besides, it’s an undergrad class this morning. It’s not like I’m late for a class that matters.” 

Before Pascal could argue further, another scaly face emerged from the plant. Eugene beamed. “Pilou! Hey Princess, I didn’t even see you in there! You were hiding so well!”

Pilou the bearded dragon wiggled proudly at her excellent skills and took to nuzzling Pascal. To his credit, he dealt with the spiky cuddles.

Eugene chuckled and continued into the rather messy living room, strewn with last semester’s papers and books. Winter break had been such a blur of sleep and goofing off, he hadn’t taken the time to organize everything. But he would. Eventually. Maybe. He nudged aside a stack of textbooks with his foot to better access the bird stand. 

“The mess isn’t _that_ bad, right Daisy? So long as you guys all have clean houses and bathrooms, that’s what matters.” He said, addressing the green and yellow parakeet. It was true; although piles of academic junk littered his living space, he kept things clean and healthy for his roommates. 

Daisy cocked her head, not really understanding him but looking completely adorable anyways. Eugene stroked the tuft of feathers on her head and eyed the stack of books he had toed, “How late is too late to return library books? Three months? Six?”

Suddenly, tiny claws were scaling his pants and clamoring up his bare arms. “OW! Pilou— _OW!”_

The bearded dragon paid no mind to her dad’s protests and settled herself on his shoulder. Eugene inspected the new scratches on his arm where she had turned him into a personal rock-climbing wall. “Really, Princess? You always have to be the center of attention, don’t you?”

She trilled happily in his ear from her new perch, such that Eugene could hardly find a reason to stay mad despite the little red welts on his bare skin now.

Pascal snickered behind Eugene, to which he shot the chameleon another glare. “Oh yeah, of course _you_ find it funny.”

With a smug grin Pascal disappeared into the foliage. Try as he might to the contrary, Eugene couldn’t help but grin. Conceding, he wove through the landmine that was his living room until he made it to the tiny kitchen. 

Another friend squeaked and yawned from her house on the kitchen floor. A chinchilla glared up at Eugene for daring to wake her at a decent hour.

“And good morning to you,” Eugene risked a possible nip from the angry chinchilla to stroke her fur. She actually took the gentle pet without a fight this morning. “Well well! Look who’s being so accommodating. Are you actually warming up to me, Trash Can?”

Pilou squeaked in his ear; Eugene could see her confused expression from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I should probably find a better name than ‘Trash Can’...But give me some slack, it’s only been a week since I found her.”

Trash Can burrowed deeper in her nesting, indifferent to the temporary name and breakfast still waiting for her. Considering Trash Can didn’t seem too keen on another head-scritch, Eugene settled for giving it to Pilou, who was always desperate for any and all attention.

“ _Ow_ , Pilou, don’t grip so hard,” He winced at the little claws digging into his shoulder. As painful as it was, he didn’t mind her perching there. Especially since it meant he could keep an eye on her while he took care of the fish tank. 

Eugene leaned down a bit to examine the two goldfish in their modest aquarium on the counter. “I haven’t fed you two yet, have I?” Eugene opened the lid and sprinkled in the fish food. “Don’t hog it all, Stan. Pete’s gotta eat too.”

The two fish only glubbed in response. They never failed to make Eugene laugh, derpy as they were. Especially Stan with his mustache-like marking. 

Pilou was suddenly very interested in the open tank and craned for a better look. “Oh no no,” Eugene shut the lid before she could get any closer. “I don’t need you swatting at Stan and Pete again.” Pilou licked at his cheek, dispelling Eugene’s need to scold her about any past trouble-making.

A _thwack_ at the window nearly made him jump out of skin before rolling his eyes. “Hamuel, really?” Eugene threw open the window for the crumpled mess of a raven squawking on the sill. Hamuel blinked each eye one at a time before scuttling inside and flapping over to join Daisy on the perch. Daisy chirped at her new neighbor, earning another shrill screech from Hamuel.

“Ham, don’t bother Daisy too much. Otherwise I’m throwing you back outside to deal with the cats.”

Right on cue came a series of yowls and mews from the back door. Pilou squeaked at the noise. “Oh crap!” Eugene scrambled over the scattered messes. “I forgot about them!” 

Luckily, if he forgot about the cats, they were quick to remind him. Eugene opened the back door to find the four felines expectantly waiting for their morning treats.

“Good morning Jack—no, I’m not going to pick you up, you big baby. Mirku, would you get your nephew for me?” 

Mirku, busy sunning her thick grey fur in a sunbeam on the grass, couldn’t be bothered to stop the black shorthair right at Eugene’s feet, still loudly meowing for snuggles. Jack’s yowls were only outdone by another black cat—a long hair—sitting on the edge of the porch trying to show off his mighty catch—a shoestring.

A calico pushed past Jack to rub Eugene’s legs. “Hey, Constable Chubs!” Eugene addressed the calico. “Is Merlin being nice today?” He eyed the black long-hair who snubbed his nose at the insinuation. 

Still dodging and addressing each cat, Eugene managed to give each one a small treat. Although Mirku couldn’t be bothered to leave her sunbeam and Jack was a little too stupid to see where Eugene had set it without some help. Chubs and Merlin also had a brief disagreement about whose treat was which, but Eugene easily broke it up. 

“Okay you four, you got your treats, now get back home. I’m late enough already.” Eugene called out to the cats still frolicking in the grass. All four came by every morning for their snacks, but wherever they came from Eugene never knew. He assumed they belonged to his neighbors—they were too well groomed to be strays. Still, he was happy to share his spit of a backyard with a few cats. 

Slipping back inside, Eugene poked his head into the spare room housing two terrariums and their slithering residents. “Spud, Suharik, eat your breakfast.”

The ball python and hognose—respectively—gave a couple of lazy bleps in response. Pilou, spotting the sun lamp on the desk, eagerly leapt from Eugene’s shoulder to steal the available warm spot. Eugene scratched her head one more time before leaving the bearded dragon to her sunbathing. It seemed everyone was fed and content this morning, so he could go about his day with a clear conscience.

At one time, Eugene may have thought casually chatting with birds and cats and various reptiles was a sign of complete insanity. And maybe so, but it was better than being alone. What else was he going to do? Sit in total silence when he was home? At least they were someone to talk to, even if it was one sided. But he didn’t mind; looking after them and having their company kept his small apartment feeling like home.

Eugene stretched and yawned on his way back to his room, Max again following behind him. The music continued to play, and a particular favorite of Eugene’s came on. As he shifted through possible shirts for the day, Eugene mumbled along with the song. Every now and then he had the urge to drop everything and sing the old 90s hit at the top of his lungs like all responsibilities were out the window.

Yet every morning that urge would quickly flee. He was only performative if there was something to gain out of it—a skill his old lifestyle had taught him that continued to be useful. Eugene found a suitable button-up and shrugged it on. Maybe tomorrow he would actually sing along with the song. But probably not. 

He went to double check his hair, when Max snatched his pant leg and started dragging him along. Large as he was, Eugene couldn’t shake him off.

“What the—hey!! Down—drop it! _Max!!!”_

Max growled and grumbled but let go with a gruff.

Eugene knelt down to inspect the leg of his jeans. “Aww Max! These were good jeans!” 

But Max wasn’t paying attention; he was pacing back and forth in front of the door. 

“What on earth has got you so— _GAH!!!”_ Eugene yelped at the sudden sticky shot in his ear—no doubt Pascal’s tongue. “Would you stop doing that, frog?!”

Pascal chirped again and again until Eugene turned to see the chameleon perched at the edge of the bed. Using his tail, Pascal furiously pointed to the clock on the bedside table showing just how late Eugene definitely was now.

_“Sh—!!!”_ Eugene swore and snatched his phone still playing music. Max barked, urging his very dumb human to _hurry up already!_

“I know I know, I’m going!” Eugene scrambled to grab his bag and materials. He definitely hadn’t properly packed everything he needed for a full day of classes, but there was no time for that now. It wouldn’t matter; the first day was just syllabuses and introductions. Or so he told himself as he nearly tripped over another stack of old papers in his rush out the door.

“Bye Spud, bye Suharik, bye Trash Can, bye Daisy, bye Hamuel, bye Pilou, bye Stan, bye Pete, bye Merlin, bye Chubs, bye Jack, bye Mirku! Max, Pascal, hold down the fort, all that good stuff.” Eugene quickly called out as he hopped on one foot to shove on his shoe. “Everybody’s got breakfast and lunch; the back door is locked; got my keys...what am I forgetting?”

Max, with Pascal balanced on his fluffy head, barked again. Pascal joined with another chirp.

“Right, okay, I’m going!” Eugene finally sped out the door and to his car. Just as he left the driveway, he realized what he forgot.

Breakfast. 

Oh. And his glasses.

He groaned. Today was going to be a very long day.

———

The first day of a new semester was always the worst.

Rapunzel poured over the class roll. She had always been gifted with remembering names and faces, but it still caused her no small amount of anxiety to look over the seemingly daunting list of new students. What did professors in lecture halls do? Did they even _try_ to memorize their new students’ names? Probably not, but that sounded like such a sad alternative to Rapunzel.

Rapunzel glanced up from her sheet to spy a few students chatting amicably as they wandered in. She immediately recognized them—thanks to her time spent the night before studying the lists of students over and over. But it would probably be weird to just...announce that she knew them, right?

“Hello hello!” _Dangit,_ she inwardly grimaced, _I sound like some seventy-year-old grandma._ “Um...take a seat anywhere!”

One of the newcomers quirked an eyebrow at their professor. _Duh they’re going to take a seat anywhere,_ Rapunzel berated herself, _What else would you do in a classroom?_ Rapunzel plastered on her best smile and whirled around to the whiteboard as though double-checking the instructions she’d scribbled. Even so, she felt like the two new students were staring her down as they resumed their conversation.

The first day of a new semester was always stressful—running for classes, getting lost in unfamiliar buildings, praying the books needed were still available. But Rapunzel was quickly discovering how much worse it was, when adding on top of her own classes, the task of _teaching_ them now. Oh, she’d been ecstatic when the dean had offered her the chance to teach Intro to Sketching for winter/spring semester as a way to take down her grad school costs. She’d been ecstatic making lesson plans. She’d been _beyond_ ecstatic when she was given the code to her own classroom—or, the one she shared with three other professors, but details details. 

But that morning she wasn’t ecstatic. She was _terrified._ She had worked so hard to get here, so hard to have this opportunity; she couldn’t blow it now.

“You’re not gonna blow it,” Cass had assured her with a grumble that morning, sipping her coffee. “You’ve got every lesson planned down to the minute. If anything, you’re so over prepared it will be the most boring art class ever.”

That hadn’t helped Rapunzel’s nerves one bit. Even after Cass hastily apologized when her roommate started tearing up at the prospect.

Rapunzel twisted a strand of her short hair in her fingers—her nervous habit—and wished for the hundredth time that morning that the Tums she’d taken would just kick in already.

By the time the 9am bell rang, her class was barely filled with its sparse students—because admittedly, who signs up for art at 9am with an unlisted professor, aka a _grad student_ ? Rapunzel gripped the clipboard with the class roll a little tighter. Her nerves were so on edge, she felt ready to combust. Nevertheless, she straightened her shoulders—checked over her new dress one more time—and turned to face her class beaming the brightest smile she could muster. _Could the Tums kick in now, please??_

“Good morning! Welcome to Intro to Sketching!” _Wow, that was way too bubbly,_ She made a mental note to dial it back by about a thousand. “Let me just check over the roll here, make sure everyone is in…”

She quickly perused the faces and her list; about three students were missing, which wasn’t odd for the first day of class. They’d probably dropped last minute or were planning to; no problem for her, she could make do with nine students.

“Alright, we’re going to start with some introductions before we get into the syllabus.” A few grumbles scattered through the room, but Rapunzel did her best to smile through it. “Trust me, I know how absolutely tedious Day One is. But as this is my first time teaching, I figure I’d better—”

A skitter of footsteps outside the classroom paused her rambling and turned a few heads. A young man stumbled into the room, panting slightly. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m here!” He delicately smoothed back his dark brown hair before taking the nearest seat in the back of the room.

Rapunzel recognized the late-comer instantly—considering her hours of studying her class roll. Still, she checked the page just to pretend like she hadn’t been _that_ psycho professor. “Mister… Fitzherbert? Just a reminder class does start at 9am, so keep that in mind.”

He waved a dismissive hand, “Yeah yeah, don’t worry. Won’t happen again.”

Rapunzel resisted the urge to scowl. This Fitzherbert seemed more concerned with straightening his hairstyle than the fact that he had just interrupted everything. And judging by the perfectly trimmed goatee and dark button-up he sported, his hair wasn’t the only part of his appearance that stole his attention. Rapunzel didn’t like to pass judgement too quickly, but this guy was already starting to annoy her. 

“Well then, as I was _saying_ , we’ll start with introductions then quickly go over the syllabus. After that we’ll spend the rest of the period just drawing. I want to see where everyone is in terms of skill level so I know how to tailor the course for you. I’ll start; I’m your professor, but we’ll keep things informal here. Just call me Rapunzel.”

“Gesundheit?”

Rapunzel tried her very hardest not to slam her clipboard down on the table. “Since you’re so eager to talk, why don’t you start, Mr. Fitzherbert? Tell us your name, your major, and a fun fact about you.”

He locked eyes with her. Oh she _knew_ everyone hated the classic three-part introductions on the first day of class; the cutesy get-to-know-you, tell-us-something-no-one-cares-about game. Which is exactly why she decided to instill it now; just for _him_. 

He pursed his lips before resigning himself to the torture; at least he had enough sense to give up a fruitless battle. He stood with a little flourish. “Hi, I’m Eugene Fitzherbert—yes, that is my given name, don’t laugh. I’m a grad student, studying Medieval and Renaissance literature. And a fun fact about me…um…” he seemed to rifle through a few options. “I’m a bookworm? But that’s probably not hard to deduce from my chosen field.”

Rapunzel resisted the nearly insurmountable urge to burst out laughing. This guy? Waltzing into class late looking like he was trying to get on the cover of GQ? _He_ was an _English major?_ What’s more, a grad student? He hardly looked capable of caring about the most basic general ed class, let alone an entire thesis.

But maybe he would surprise her. Maybe he wasn’t quite as cocky as he appeared to be. Although the more he refined the rolled cuffs of his shirt and struck a lackadaisical pose, the harder it would be to convince Rapunzel he was anything other than what he appeared.

The rest of introductions went by smoothly, Rapunzel making mental notes along the way to ensure she remembered each of her students. Of course, that might all fly out the window after an entire day of such introductions. And now that she had started the three-part introduction game...she couldn’t exactly stop. She added to her mental notes another that said not to waste her time on petty revenge with this Fitzherbert guy, since inevitably it would just backfire on her.

Introductions and syllabus over—thank goodness—Rapunzel sighed internally at the easy part of class. “Alright, so I assume you all brought a sketchbook and pencil, like I emailed you last week. I’m going to give you some simple prompts so you can just sketch to your heart’s content. Feel free to pull up references on your phones. This is just to get an idea of how comfortable everyone is with drawing.”

The students procured their materials as Rapunzel began jotting down some objects and concepts on the white-board; flower, window, sun, portrait… She glanced over her shoulder to see the small group flipping open their books and starting to work. It was certainly quiet, which wasn’t necessarily bad. Admittedly, she’d had visions of laughing and joking with all her students and creating easy new friendships, but she’d been so awkward during those first fifteen minutes of class. Rapunzel doubted her students would ever see her as anything other than an overly smiley girl who was way too young to be their professor. A silly, naive, fragile little girl too inexperienced to be out on her own in the world.

Rapunzel nearly turned back to her list when her problematic student— Eugene Fitzherbert —caught her attention yet again. Was he drawing on…old essays?

He was; he was using the backs of old essays and a mindlessly nibbling a chewed-up #2 pencil as he fiddled with his phone. Considering his whole demeanor, this was…unexpected. Even if he was terribly unprepared for an art class, at the very least it was nice to know that some aspect of him wasn’t veiled by the persona of perfection.

And Rapunzel told Cass as much that evening after her final class. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but it’s just a bit...dorky. It helped take him down a peg, you know?”

Cass nodded, her eyes already drooping where she was stretched out on the couch. “Yeah yeah, I get you.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure he needs glasses. He kept squinting at the board,” Rapunzel rambled on, happily gobbling down her dinner. “Did I tell you he ran into the wall on his way out of the room?”

Cass chuckled lazily, “I would have liked to see that.”

“I guess we’ll see what he’s like on Wednesday. Maybe he’ll actually be on time. And not insufferable.”

“Hmph,” Cass mumbled.

Rapunzel finally noticed her roommate’s drowsiness, “You feeling okay? You look exhausted.”

“She was out until 4am, that’s why,” Faith commented as she came into the tiny kitchenette, already in her pajamas.

Cass grumbled into the cushion she was face-planting, “Tattletale.”

Faith—pulling her ice cream from the freezer—pointed a spoon accusingly at Cass. “Hey, my room is right by the door, I wake up when you come waltzing home half-drunk in the middle of the night. At least Punzie has the decency to go to bed a reasonable hour.”

“Because she’s _boring.”_

Rapunzel did her best to chuckle at the jab; Cass meant well. Usually. At least she always had over the five years that they’d been friends. If they ever disagreed, it was resolved fairly quickly. 

That is, except for the last month or so. Rapunzel had found herself getting into more arguments with her friend recently; arguments that went unresolved. But it was probably just a minor rough patch, Rapunzel told herself. So long as she didn’t prod the issue, it would surely go away. That tactic had worked all her life, why wouldn’t it work now?

“So,” Rapunzel poked at the spaghetti turning cold on her plate, “Why were you out so late?”

Cass yawned, “Some people from work wanted to go for drinks, that’s all. We ended up at this weird club I’d never heard of. It was all western themed. I kinda lost track of time in between shots.”

Rapunzel chewed on her lip a moment before responding, “You really shouldn’t be out so late, especially when you have work the next day.”

“Really Raps?” Cass snorted in derision. “What I do with my time is my business; you don’t have to get on my case about it just because you don’t wanna do anything interesting.”

From the corner of her eye Rapunzel could see Faith watching the two of them. The third roommate was familiar with the tension that signaled a fight starting to brew. The question now was whether or not to get involved. Rapunzel half-hoped Faith wouldn’t; she was frankly too exhausted to argue with Cass right now, and Faith making a comment would only trigger it.

“You know,” Faith began through a mouthful of ice cream, “Cass has a point.”

Rapunzel shot a disbelieving look at Faith. Before she could form a retort, Faith continued, “You really should get out more. Maybe we should all do something together on Friday.”

“I mean….” Rapunzel mumbled. “I wouldn’t mind doing something exciting.” It was true; her life was a little dull. She just didn’t need to be reminded of that fact.

Cass lifted her head from the cushion, a wry smile growing on her face. “What if I take you two to the club I went to last night?”

“Ooo,” Faith teased, “Drinking and dancing kind of club?”

Cass’s smile turned devious, “Even better; a _strip_ club.”

Rapunzel nearly fell off the couch in shock. “A strip—?! Wha—I— _NO!!!_ ” She stammered. “I’m not going to a stripper club!”

Cass rolled her eyes and sat up to be face-to-face with Rapunzel. “ _Strip_ club, not _stripper_ club. And come on! Stop being so squeamish! It’s not that bad. People go to them all the time, it’s totally normal.”

Faith burst out laughing, “Okay, maybe _you_ go to strip clubs all the time, but that’s not a regular evening activity for most people!”

“I meant that as a general statement, thank you very much.” Cass retorted, “I swear, I actually miss when you were too shy to hold a conversation longer than five minutes.”

Faith shrugged, “It’s because I live with you. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

The friendly bickering continued on between the women, much to Rapunzel’s relief. She’d been right; so long as she didn’t press issues with Cass, the tension went away. It wasn’t better, but it was gone, and she knew how to handle that.

Now all she had to handle was convincing her roommates _not_ to drag her to a strip club Friday evening. It wasn’t that she found the idea of strip clubs reprehensible, it just...wasn’t her thing. It sounded weird to cheer about a stranger tearing off their clothes.

Just how to get out of this extremely awkward girls-night occupied her every waking thought as she arrived for the second day of the semester. A few excuses came to mind as she sat through her first class, but by the second class she had figured out every way Cass would manage to pick apart her logic. Third class and still no viable way out was coming to mind. Muddled as her head was on the way to her last class of the day, Rapunzel ran right into someone leaving the intended room.

Rapunzel fumbled with the papers she carried before recognizing her unintended victim. “Catalina! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

The redhead pushed aside hair that had fallen in her face. “Oh! Professor Rapunzel! I’m sorry, I should have been looking at where I was going.”

Kiera, having been walking beside her sister before the incident, stooped down to get the papers Rapunzel had dropped. Rapunzel gave a quick thank you as she handed back the stack. The two students Rapunzel had smacked into, Catalina and Kiera, were sisters taking the last period of her sketching class.

“What are you doing on campus today, Professor?” Kiera asked.

“I have a few classes of my own to attend on Tuesdays and Thursdays, that’s all. And please, call me Rapunzel. I’m just a grad student, there’s no need to be formal about it.”

The girls exchanged a look and a giggle. “Wish we could convince _him_ of that,” Kiera thumbed to the classroom they had just left— the one Rapunzel had been headed for.

“Who?” Rapunzel asked, her curiosity piqued.

Catalina giggled again, “Our uncle. We’re in his Shakespeare class, and he insists on being called ‘professor’ all the time even though he’s just a grad student.”

Kiera rolled her eyes, “He even makes _us_ call him Professor when we’re talking about school stuff. We’ve known him for years, but _nooo_ , he can’t make exceptions for family, otherwise that’d be nepotism and blah blah blah.”

“Wait, your uncle?” Rapunzel pointed to the classroom—and thereby professor—in question. “He teaches that class? I have him next I think.”

“Really?!” Catalina laughed even harder. “That’s the craziest coincidence!”

Rapunzel chuckled at the notion; it certainly _was_ crazy. Just then, the five minute bell rang, prompting the threesome to break up the pleasantries. 

“Annoy him for us!” Kiera commented as the sisters hurried down the hall.

“You should be more worried that I’m going to compare notes with him about your class work!” Rapunzel called after them before turning back to the classroom, her previous woes forgotten for the moment.

The “professor” in question had his back to the room, busy scribbling barely legible notes on the chalkboard. Rapunzel took a quick survey of the available seats and chose one near the center a few rows back. It was within the “zone of attention” or whatever that chart she’d seen her freshman year had said. _Wow, three years and that diagram is still ingrained in my brain,_ she mused.

A few more students filed in before the hour bell rang. It was a fairly full class, especially considering the minuscule size of the room and the amount of Shakespearean knick knacks on display. Rapunzel was a little jealous of the minor decor allowed for the classroom; clearly, this grad-student-turned-professor had some more leeway than she did. The professor continued to scribble for a minute after the bell rang. He patted the chalk dust off the cuff of his tan suit and turned to the class.

The moment he accidentally locked eyes with her, Rapunzel’s jaw nearly dropped.

It couldn’t be him. This guy was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He was dressed like the most stereotypical scholar archetype, in a three-piece suit complete with cufflinks and a tie. This couldn’t be the same pretentious jerk who had showed up late and got on her nerves the day before.

But the recognition in his stare—not to mention that immaculate hairstyle—told her otherwise. This was him; the latecomer, the troublemaker, the aspiring GQ model. Eugene Fitzherbert.

He was her Shakespeare professor.

The slightest hint of a smile twitched at his upper lip as he regarded her. He bit his tongue a moment, perhaps considering his own revenge for the three-part introduction she’d made him endure the day before.

She’d been right; petty revenge was stupid. 

“Welcome everyone to Shakespeare. For those of you who _don’t_ know me,” he made eye contact with her again, “I am Professor Fitzherbert. Yes, I may be a grad student, but you’re going to call me Professor, unlike _some_.”

Rapunzel felt her face growing hot at the smirk he dared to shoot her. She couldn’t decide if she should be embarrassed or furious. Or maybe a mix of both. The rest of the period was a blur for her as she tried to comprehend the insane scenario she’d found herself in. Her _student_ was her _professor_. 

Any other person and maybe she could laugh this off and find it a funny turn of events. But no; she was going to be stuck looking at that smug face every day for the rest of the semester. Mondays-Wednesdays in Intro to Sketching and Tuesdays-Thursdays in Shakespeare 101. She would have to see that smug and—as much as she hated to admit it—very handsome face. The fact that he was good-looking made this so much worse. Why it was worse, she couldn’t exactly articulate, but it just was.

When the period-end bell rang at 5pm, students immediately bolted for the door. However, Rapunzel hung back, deliberately taking her time to organize her books in her bag. The last of the underclassmen filed out, leaving the two professor-students alone with a tension thick enough it could be cut by a knife.

Rapunzel clicked her tongue, “So.”

“So…” Fitzherbert replied, glancing up from the laptop on his desk.

They stared for another long moment. 

“Professor Fitzherbert, huh?” Rapunzel couldn’t keep the mild contempt from her voice.

He smirked again; he really needed to stop doing that before she slapped it off his face. “I told you I’m a bookworm.”

“Right...so what now?”

Fitzherbert eyed her, “What do you mean?”

“Is this a conflict-of-interest problem? Are we going to get in trouble unless one of us drops the other’s class?”

He actually had the nerve to laugh; oh, she was _so_ tempted to smack him right about now. “You actually worry about that?”

“Yes!” Rapunzel clenched her fists in her skirt. “I worry when something could jeopardize my standing as a student at this school! Frankly, it should bother you too!”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, “So long as we don’t give each other special treatment, no one is going to care that we’re in each other’s classes. I mean, they let us sign up, didn’t they? The enrollment program apparently isn’t set up to stop us from doing so.”

Rapunzel crossed her arms over her chest, “When it’s a grad student teaching, the instructor is unlisted, so there’s no way the program would catch it when we signed up for each other’s courses.”

Now he was starting to look annoyed. _Good,_ she thought. 

“If it was really an issue, they would have worked a block into the system.”

She huffed at the inarguable logic and tapped her foot. “So we just don’t say anything to the higher ups and let it slide?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what we do.”

Rapunzel chewed on her words for a minute; she could continue to argue, but admittedly he was right. Plus she really needed to complete the literature credit this semester; putting it off just for this dolt was out of the question. What’s more, that would make it look like she was letting him _win._ It would be admitting that he succeeded at irritating her, and that was _definitely_ not going to happen. She had a suspicion that he would refuse to drop her class for that same reason. 

“So we don’t talk about it, and the problem will go away,” Rapunzel concluded. She could work with that. As always.

“Sounds like a plan,” Fitzherbert returned to his typing. 

Rapunzel nearly headed out the door, but stopped in her tracks after only a few steps. He was focused on his work again, like he had been in class the day before. The same pencil was in his teeth, back and forth between being absentmindedly chewed on and used to jot down notes. That persona of arrogant perfection was down momentarily, and Rapunzel couldn’t help but wonder if there was something she was missing behind this polished exterior. She knew better than to think people were exactly what they seemed; she’d already been taught that lesson the hard way.

She chanced at making the slightest attempt to soften her demeanor, “I...um...I found out something funny right before class.”

Fitzherbert glanced back up, quirking an eyebrow in confusion at her effort to make conversation. “Oh? What?” He sounded marginally intrigued.

“Apparently your nieces, Catalina and Kiera, are also in my sketching class.”

That piqued his interest. “Really? I haven’t had a chance to catch up with them in a couple days, but I guess you’re the art professor Cat texted me about last night.”

“It was something good, I hope?”

“She said her professor was really sweet and so far it’s her favorite class. Is that good enough?”

Despite her best efforts, Rapunzel knew her cheeks were turning pink again. “Well, Catalina is a joy to have in class already. I’m sure being her and Kiera’s uncle must be fun.”

His eyes suddenly lit up like Rapunzel had hit on the thing that gave him his spark of life—and maybe she had. “They’re annoying rascals but I love them to death.”

The sweet admittance took Rapunzel by surprise; it seemed Fitzherbert _did_ have a hidden side to him. “Are they your brother or sister’s girls?”

“Actually,” Fitzherbert straightened his glasses. “They’re not related to me at all. But my best friend and I grew up together and we’re basically brothers, so when he adopted them I just became Uncle Eugene.” He met her gaze again with a far softer expression spelled out in his features.

In just a few short minutes, Rapunzel’s preconceived notions about Eugene Fitzherbert were beginning to chip away. People are not what they appear, and Rapunzel was finding what a nice revelation that could be—for a change. “It’s funny,” she shuffled her feet a little, “If I had known you were teaching this class, I probably would have dropped it before the semester even started.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “Oh? And what’s stopping you now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that there’s enough coincidence around this that I think I ought to see this through. At a certain point, you should start paying attention to coincidences instead of resisting them.”

A bemused smirk crossed his lips—quite different from the arrogant one that had been grating on her nerves. “That’s...an interesting philosophy.”

She shrugged. “It’s just something I’ve learned over the years. Sometimes it’s best to just listen and follow where life is leading you.”

Fitzherbert bristled like he’d been jabbed by a needle. A jolt of unease shot through Rapunzel right down to her feet and nailed her to where she stood. Anxiety over having said the wrong thing flooded her, but so did an insatiable curiosity as to why a seemingly benign statement would elicit just a reaction from this man. 

His chestnut eyes flickered past the rim of his glasses to her for a split second before fixating on an indiscernible point in space. “I might have to disagree with that sentiment.”

Rapunzel eyed his tense posture. “Oh? Do you have a different outlook?”

He returned the surveying stare. “You could say that.”

She wasn’t sure if he was delaying as a signal for her to leave, or asking her to press the question further. It would be easy to just drop it, as she always did with such problematic scenarios…

But she had already decided that Fitzherbert was _not_ going to intimidate her. And that included possibly passive aggressive methods to get rid of her presence. “Then what’s _your_ life philosophy?”

“Take matters into your own hands,” he readily answered, “And reject the lot life tries to deal you. I don’t buy into that happy-go-lucky, where-life-leads-you nonsense.”

It was Rapunzel’s turn to bristle. “That sounds a bit...greedy.”

He smirked humorlessly—yeah, she was already sick of that grin. “Until you walk in someone else’s shoes, try not to judge their callous outlook on life.”

“If that’s the case, then the opposite is true as well. Don’t judge someone’s ‘happy-go-lucky’ attitude as you call it until you understand why they try to have a positive mindset.”

He scowled. “My mindset isn’t negative, it’s just realistic.”

“Or hopeless.” Rapunzel shot back.

She half-expected a derisive comment, but instead he genuinely smiled, albeit one barely discernible as such. “I think you’ll be an interesting professor.”

Oddly enough, Rapunzel found herself agreeing. “You too.”

A long stare and momentary nod was all that was given on either end as a farewell. As Rapunzel walked down the empty hall, she couldn’t stop pondering over the revelatory—and baffling—conversation. Fitzherbert was annoying and arrogant, yes. He was incredibly insufferable, yes. He was candid and cheeky and cocky, yes.

But did he also have a certain charm?...also yes. He was confusing, to say the least. He dressed like a model one day and a museum curator the next. He was seemingly apathetic about work one minute yet engaged and passionate the next. He could present a dark, pessimistic view of the world that was entirely opposite of hers and yet admit with complete sincerity a genuine interest to continue their student-professor interaction. 

An insane coincidence had led her to a puzzling person, and if Rapunzel truly believed her philosophy, for once in her life she wouldn’t run away from the issue. Fate was lighting a path for her; shouldn’t she follow it?


	2. A Bull-Surfing Stripper

Rapunzel had managed to get out of the girls-strip-club-night the previous Friday on the grounds that she honestly had copious amounts of paperwork after the first week of school. This week no such excuse had presented itself, and caught in her own mistaken admittance that she wanted to get out and have more fun, Rapunzel now found herself getting dragged and pushed by her roommates into a western-themed strip club on a Friday night.

Her one consolation for the evening was that Friday was her free day from a particular person. Admittedly, the last two weeks hadn’t been nearly as terrible as she had assumed it would be, what with having to spend Monday through Thursday enduring Mr. Eugene Fitzherbert.

Sorry,  _ Professor  _ Fitzherbert. It still grated her nerves slightly when she was forced to say that in his class.

But she was being harder on him than she needed to be, Rapunzel would often remind herself at the end of the day. He really wasn’t that bad. Just...a bit of a prick. She didn’t have a legitimate reason to drop out of his class. Rapunzel had gone so far as to even ask the dean if taking the class of a colleague would be a conflict-of-interest issue. The mustached man had answered that it was only a problem if there was justifiable favoritism or “if those two colleagues are romantically involved.”

Rapunzel had practically retched at the idea. Yeah, that was never going to happen. 

So, she would just put up with Fitzherbert, his botched drawing assignments, and their confusing relationship until Fridays when she could find a reprieve from him. Even if that reprieve meant going to a strip club.

“It’s just a guy getting naked to sexy music for everyone to see. There’s nothing to be squeamish about.” Cass grumbled, already settling into her typical level of annoyance for the evening.

“You need to stop saying words,” Rapunzel squeaked out. Her legs felt like jelly and her gut wouldn’t stop churning. 

Faith skipped in behind them, quickly flashing her ID to the bouncer who dared to question her age. “Come on, this will be fun! And even if you don’t wanna watch the strippers, there’s still plenty of music and drinking!”

“She  _ better  _ watch the stripper,” Cass spat back. “This place isn’t cheap.”

Rapunzel blushed deep. Everything about this experience was already making her queasy, but upsetting Cass conjured up a feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach. Well, actually, upsetting  _ anyone  _ usually did that to her. Except Fitzherbert.

Ugh. This was her free time. Fitzherbert did  _ not  _ get to occupy her thoughts during her free time.

Rapunzel cast her eyes around the club. It was fairly packed, which could only be expected on a weekend. The poor bartender was busy running back and forth between a myriad of customers, but he seemed jovial despite the hectic craze.

“Ooo,” Faith sidled up beside Rapunzel. “The bartender’s kinda cute.”

Cass cocked her head in consideration. “He’s probably at least ten years older than you, Faith. Gross.”

“So? I can say he’s cute. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna hit on him.”

“Can you two make this night any  _ more  _ awkward?” Rapunzel groaned, hunching in on herself.

Cass rolled her eyes and headed for the bar. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Go find us a good spot by the stage, will you?”

“Absolutely,” Faith grabbed Rapunzel’s arms and shoved her forward. “And I think I spy an open space right up front.”

“What the—Faith!!!” Rapunzel protested at her roommate.

“It’s your first stripper, so you  _ deserve _ to be dead center!”

Rapunzel flushed for the tenth time since entering the club. Although so much of her brain protested the notion, she couldn’t deny she had promised herself to be more adventurous. And if adventurous meant being front-of-the-line for a male stripper…so be it.

The twang of guitars kicked up over the loudspeakers. Rapunzel had never listened to much country, but the western-themed club and folksy-yet-raunchy music had an odd charm that made her smile despite the legion of butterflies in her stomach.

Well maybe “charm” wasn’t quite the word; the club was more….quirky than charming. Especially considering the mechanical bull in the center of the fenced off performance area where—she assumed—a pole would usually be.

A few of the drunker members of the crowd began to whoop and holler with the music, recognizing whatever the song was. Cass elbowed her way through the crowd to where Faith and Rapunzel were squished up against the fence separating the rest of the club from the bull ring. Faith snatched one of the bottles from Cass and immediately popped it open.

“What did you get?” Rapunzel asked, taking the bottle Cass held out to her.

“Just beers. You don’t seem able to hold down your alcohol tonight.”

Rapunzel nervously chuckled, “You’re not wrong….” She rolled the ice cold bottle in her hands, enjoying how the chill cooled her nerves. She wished this stripper would just come out and get their stupid set over with. “So...do you know who the performer is tonight?”

Cass took a swig of beer and shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably not the same one from last night. The bartender said it was one of the weekend guys.”

“Who was it last night?”

Cass thought for a moment. “Some guy with a man bun and a beard. Which, gross, but it’s a western club so I guess it’s fine or whatever.”

“Gross because he had a beard?” Faith asked.

“Beards are fine. It’s the  _ man bun  _ I couldn’t get over.” Cass grimaced, clearly remembering last night’s performer with some disdain. 

“What do you think, Rapunzel?” Faith asked. “Does facial hair do it for you?”

Rapunzel shot Faith a minor glare. “Really?”

“Oh come on, answer the question. Do you think facial hair is attractive on a guy?”

“I don’t know! Maybe a little scruff? But I can’t imagine kissing a guy with a sandpaper face.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Besides,” Cass interjected, “You’ve never even kissed anyone, how would you know?”

Rapunzel bristled at the comment. “Hey, just because—”

“Okay!” Faith shoved in between them. “Fun night, remember?”

That pit dropped in Rapunzel’s gut. Faith was right; now was not the time or place to get into another spat with her friend. Rapunzel eyed the stage and crowd, trying to distract herself from her discomfort. “Is this normal? This much delay?”

Cass shrugged, a little icy now. “I dunno, maybe the dude’s having trouble with his tear-away pants.”

Apparently Rapunzel’s face was good enough to trigger a snicker from Cass. “Could you  _ not _ ?” Rapunzel moaned. “I know we’re in a strip club but—”

“Does no one else have the guts to get up on that thing?” A voice yelled out over the music. “Guess I’ll just have to  _ myself _ !” A man vaulted over the fence with a dramatic swoop, triggering a few high-pitched whoops from some rather drunk middle-aged women in the corner. He shot the ladies a quick finger gun as though he recognized them as regulars.

Rapunzel flushed even hotter.  _ Not _ an encouraging start.

He hopped atop the bull, standing with a dashing pose on the still animatronic, “Hello, ladies and gents! I am the incomparable Flynn Rider, ready to  _ ride _ this thing all  _ night _ !” The mechanical bull kicked into action and the performer dropped to its back like a typical rodeo cowboy, flashing a fantastic grin to anyone who cat-called.

Rapunzel squinted against the sudden flare of colored strobe lights as the music kicked up a notch to be heard over the squeaking gears. There was too much commotion for her to get a good look at the performer’s face. But then again, she figured, maybe that wasn’t so important at a strip club? It still felt odd to ogle a man’s body when she had no reference for the head attached to it. 

Admittedly though, he did have an impressive physique. Even hidden under the suit pants, vest, and tie she could tell he sported an athletic build. Which was also obvious by the way he so expertly kept his balance despite the robot’s ruckus.

If she wasn’t already impressed, her jaw nearly dropped as the performer leapt back to his feet on the raging bull, much to the audience’s immense enjoyment. Rapunzel half-expected him to immediately flip off and land face-first in the mats. But it was quite the opposite; rather, he practically  _ danced _ on the bull. Sliding, kicking, and rocking his hips in tandem with the animatronic and the music. Clearly, this was second-nature to him.

The intentionally tantalizing rocking of his hips and devilish smile were only a precursor to the highlight of the show, however. He slid off his tie with a single motion and threw it to the crowd, triggering a round of horny screams. Then came the vest; each button came sensually undone with each sway of the bull, the performer still moving perfectly in rhythm. With a quick thrust the vest came off.

Just as he bundled it, ready to throw it off to the next eager participant, Faith hollered deafeningly in Rapunzel’s ear and grabbed her roommate’s arm, waving it high in the air.

“Hey— _ Faith! _ ”

Faith ignored Rapunzel’s protest and screamed for the stripper’s attention again. Miraculously, he noticed and tossed the vest right for Rapunzel. The fabric bundle smacked her in the face and she fumbled to grab it properly.

_ Why _ did she have to look up right then? She turned her head back up to the stripper just in time for him to dip his head slightly and shoot her a quick wink.

And Rapunzel’s brain nearly melted out of her ears.

The tilt of his head was just right to block the lights behind him briefly, barely enough to expose his face to Rapunzel. Who didn’t know whether to scream or run or both.

Both. Probably both.

Because she knew that face. Crap crap  _ crap _ , she knew that face.

Rapunzel spun and fled from the stage area, bee-lining for the back door. She dropped the beer bottle somewhere but couldn’t think clear enough to notice if it had created a mess. The bouncer at the back door quickly deduced her need and pushed open the door for what he probably assumed was a drunk college girl about to chuck her guts across the sidewalk.

Rapunzel darted into the cool night air and skidded to a stop to drop her face into the fabric still clenched in her hands and scream.

She distantly heard Cass dash up beside her, “Raps?! Are you okay?”

Rapunzel just screamed into her hands again.

“Look, if this is just first-time jitters I’m gonna go back in there, because—”

“ _ Cass _ ,” Rapunzel croaked out, “That’s my  _ professor _ .”

Cass paused, “Who?!”

“The stripper. He’s my  _ Shakespeare professor _ .”

Five minutes later Cass was still doubled-over on the sidewalk laughing hysterically. Rapunzel could only groan into her hands every time Cass tried to comment through her maniacal wheezing.

“That’s your  _ professor _ ?! You’re  _ Shakespeare professor _ ?! That absolute nerd moonlights as a bull-surfing stripper?! Wait, is that the same guy who’s your student in your drawing class? The one who draws on old essays?!”

Rapunzel just moaned like she wanted to disappear into the concrete, still muffled by the bunch of fabric.

Another fit of laughter overtook Cass, “To thine own self be  _ very _ true, then! He’s certainly throwing around a lot more than just  _ iambic pentameter _ !” Cass pulled the last word with a body roll just to make her roommate growl again.

“Cass!! Shut up!!” 

That Fitzherbert  _ prick _ . That prick she thought was so arrogant and obnoxious with his perfect hair and thick-rimmed glasses and chewed-up pencil…

Was a  _ stripper _ . That she had  _ paid _ to see.

Cass seemed to have finally regained her ability to breathe and speak properly, “Alright, are you okay?”

Rapunzel nodded into the fabric, “Yeah, just a little weirded out.”

Cass set a hand on her shoulder, “Good. Because you’re planting your face in his sweaty vest.”

Rapunzel screeched and threw the offending garment as far from herself as possible.

Faith eventually ran out to see what was wrong, and joined Cass in hysterical laughter. After they had somewhat contained themselves, it took a few more minutes—plus a lot of convincing, pushing, and general shoving—before Cass and Faith were able to drag Rapunzel anywhere near the door back inside.

“I bet his set is over by now!” Cass argued, yanking on Rapunzel’s arm.

Rapunzel shook her head vigorously, digging her heels into the pavement. “Nonononono I’m not going back in—”

“Punzie!” Faith protested. “Come on! We don’t have to go back to the strippers!”

Rapunzel turned her wide eyes to Faith. “We don’t?”

“No! We can just go sit by the bar, get some water and calm down, okay?”

Rapunzel looked back to Cass, who agreed to wait out the floor show. Rapunzel gritted her teeth. “Okay….okay I’m okay. I’ll go in…”

She let her friends lead her, wobbling, back inside the club, much to the bouncer’s relief. The booming western music washed back over Rapunzel. Despite the guitars and bass, it was oddly calming in the moment.

“There,” Cass assured her. “It’s totally fine. Now just...open your eyes.”

Rapunzel dared to peek through her lashes.

“See? His set’s over and—”

“Not over,  _ not over!!!”  _ Rapunzel yelped and scrunched in on herself again, because holy crap, Fitzherbert’s set was very much anything  _ but  _ over. And now she’d seen more of him than she ever cared to in her life.

That, unfortunately, started Cass and Faith falling apart with peels of laughter all over again.

By the time the three had made their way home—Cass and Faith still snickering and making lewd Shakespearean references—Rapunzel hadn’t fully managed to wrap her head around the situation at hand. She’d thought it was bad enough to have him as a weird student-professor. She’d thought it was charming to know he was the uncle of two of her students. And now her first time at a strip club and who—of all people—was the one ripping off his clothes and throwing them at her?

Eugene Fitzherbert.

“This has got to be the  _ weirdest  _ coincidence...” Rapunzel mumbled to herself as she yanked her blanket over her head, safe in her bed finally.

Actually, coinci _ dences,  _ she realized in the muffled darkness of her sanctuary. Three, to be exact. All around the same guy. First the professor-student thing, then the uncle thing, and now this stripper thing. This wasn’t coincidence; this was a  _ pattern _ . She’d said it herself; at a certain point she needed to start paying attention to the pattern Fate was setting out for her rather than ignoring it.

She groaned. Stupid Fate. Maybe Fitzherbert had a point about rejecting the lot life tries to deal you. Because whatever life or Fate or what-have-you was trying to tell her about Eugene Fitzherbert, she did  _ not  _ want to hear it.

At least not until the smell of his sweaty vest was erased from her memory forever.

——

Eugene stretched out the sore in his neck and readjusted his glasses. His sets had gone relatively well tonight. Except for the last one when he’d fallen off the mechanical bull and landed weird on the padded floor. But that was nothing new. At least he would have the weekend to recover from his injured neck—and pride.

He skirted past the crowd still going strong in the club, bumping a few people dancing to the country song currently blaring. They didn’t recognize him as the performer they had just been screaming about minutes earlier. That was always the fun part about being a stripper, seeing how many people didn’t recognize you with clothes on.

Well, except for the regulars. Eugene waved to the three middle-aged women at their usual table in the corner. 

_ “Strippaaaaaar!” _ They cheered to him in half-drunk Estonian accents. Only the one with the light amber hair was actually Estonian—and the most sober—but the other two made decent attempts at the accent.

Eugene shook his head, chuckling. “Will you ladies ever learn my real name?”

“Pourquoi?” The French woman, her long brown waves a mess, tried to straighten her glasses but only succeeded in making them more crooked. “You don’t know our names, we don’t need to know yours.”

Eugene shot her a finger gun, “Fair point. The Dream Team is perfect for you.”

The Estonian woman returned the finger gun, “And  _ strippar  _ is perfect for you.”

The last woman in the trio, American and sporting a bold hair color, pointed towards the back door of the club. “Some girl ran out during your set. The one you threw your vest to. It looked like you broke her.”

“Really?” Eugene turned over his shoulder to eye the club. “Is she still here? I didn’t have my glasses on, I have no idea what she looked like.”

“Why?” The French woman teased. “Are you hoping she’s cute?”

Eugene struck his best attempt at a flirtatious pose, considering his exhaustion. “Maybe…” 

The women giggled over their drinks. “She already left,” The American downed the last of her margarita, then eagerly pointed behind Eugene as something caught her eye. “Ooh! The next guy is up!”

They hurriedly brushed Eugene out of their line of sight, allowing him to see which of his co-workers was capturing the attention of his usual fans. He scowled as the man took his place on the bull, jumping his cue a little.

“Ugh,  _ this  _ guy…” Eugene groaned.

“Mida?” The Estonian asked. “What’s wrong with him? He’s attractive, and he does pretty well up there.”

“He’s just—” But before he could get into his rant, the music kicked up and the stripper dove into his routine. The three women sent him off with some quick goodbyes and returned their attention to the show. Eugene did his best not to let his ego be bruised by the light rejection from his “dream team.”

He leaned up against the far end of the bar where Lance was catching up on cleaning and organizing, now that his customers were distracted by the performance. “Hey buddy, how much longer is your shift?”

Lance shrugged, “I’m going late tonight. I’m taking Sunday off to spend it with Cat and Kiera. You’re still coming for dinner that day, right?”

Eugene rubbed the sore in his neck, trying to hide his awkwardness, “Um, actually I’ll have to take a rain check...again…”

Lance huffed a sigh. “Really, Eugene? This is the third week in a row.”

“I know, I know...I’m just really behind in my work already. Which Cat and Kiera are partially responsible for, by the way. It’s the stupid sketching class that’s killing me.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be your fun class?” Lance asked.

“You’d think,” Eugene growled. “But the professor is  _ not _ making it easy.”

Lance had the nerve to eye him with a knowing grin. “Isn’t that the girl who’s also in your Shakespeare class?”

“Yeah. And don’t go getting any ideas.”

Lance held up his hands in defense. “I’m not saying anything! Not at all!” He went back to wiping down the counter. “I just remember Kiera saying their teacher is a cute little brunette. And I know you—”

“—‘Have a thing for brunettes,’ yes, okay, I remember, thank you.” Eugene rolled his eyes just to have an excuse to look away from Lance’s diabolical glee. Especially since Lance had a point and Eugene was  _ not  _ going to admit that out loud, ever. No one would ever get him to say the words that his art professor/ Shakespeare student was maybe, possibly, in some slight really-stretching-it kind of way…. _ cute _ .

If anyone _did_ manage to get him to admit that, Eugene could easily defend that it was only because she was a brunette and had freckles. Anyone could buy that; it was impossible to deny that she was stock-photo-model-pretty, with her bright green eyes and sweet smile. So should he accidentally slip and actually call her “cute” out loud, he had an excellent defense.

Because, if he was being honest with himself, he had finally come to grips with the fact that Rapunzel was mildly charming. Sure, she grated on his nerves with her bubbly attitude, but he couldn’t deny that her ability to banter with him was entertaining. She was the only person he’d ever known who could find some new way to trip him up every day. 

For instance, Rapunzel was able to call out every one of his excuses for being behind in Intro to Sketching, despite his practiced poker-face. She’d even been able to resist the smolder. The  _ smolder.  _ He had once handed in a half-hearted attempt at a deer that looked more like a bush having a conniption. As a finishing touch, he’d hit her with his classic look that made every professor— _ every  _ professor—give him a passing grade. It was his super power that he’d always been strict in using to preserve its potency.

But Rapunzel had stood there, unfazed, and pursed her lips looking over the sheet of paper. She’d then crumpled it and tossed it in the garbage. “I accept late work,” she’d said tersely and moved on to the next student. 

It must have been an off day for him, Eugene told himself. Because that  _ never  _ happened. And yet it  _ kept  _ happening with Rapunzel. She was, bafflingly, immune to his usual tricks. Eugene couldn’t chalk it up to her being an airhead, though. She kept getting fantastic grades on every assignment in Shakespeare 101, no matter how hard he tried to dock her points. Even the comments she made in class were well-thought out. He had half-a-mind to admit that her insights on complex lines of verse were even better than  _ his  _ interpretations _. _

Yeah, no. He’d never admit that. He could admit she was objectively cute; he could admit she occasionally outwitted him. Admitting that she was all-around smarter than him? Never. But he had certainly met his match.

Eugene forced himself to focus on something— _ anything—  _ to draw his attention away from the Rapunzel Dilemma. Unfortunately the only thing louder than his own thoughts right now was the screaming crowd now forcing his attention to the stripper still doing his set.

“Sheesh,” Eugene grabbed the glass of water Lance had slid over to him and took a long swig. “I hate having to work the same shift as Andrew.”

Lance looked up from his work to said performer. “Because he’s a cocky arse with an overinflated ego? I’d think you two would get along.”

“Har har. I know you hate him, too.”

“And I’d hate you if we weren’t best friends.”

Eugene set his elbow on the counter, pouting. “Come on, you know what I mean. He’s always coming-on to women after his shift, it’s disgusting.  _ Plus, _ ” Eugene slapped the bar as though this was a far more important point. “He’s  _ always  _ trying to one-up me! He’s not even  _ close  _ to being as good up there as me!”

Lance tried and failed to choke back a snicker. “I don’t know, he gets about as many tips as you do. And do you hear them out there? They’re going crazy for him.”

“Psh. That’s just because he gets naked faster. Which he only does because he can’t stay up on the bull as long as I do.”

Lance blinked in confusion. “So? What’s your point?”

Eugene set a haughty hand on his chest. “So  _ I  _ build up the anticipation, which is Strip Tease 101.  _ He  _ just gets it out and over with before anyone’s had a chance to get remotely horny. By the way, you can  _ time  _ how long he stays up on the bull. Two minutes and fifty seconds. Tops _. My _ average is always over four minutes, so I rarely fall before finishing.”

Lance raised a single eyebrow. “You know, for as much as you say you hate the guy, you seem to have watched Andrew a  _ lot. _ ”

_ “Because I hate him!  _ You know what, I’m not having this argument,” Eugene abruptly stood up and grabbed his bag. “I gotta get home anyways, the girls are stuck house-sitting for me.”

It was Lance’s turn to roll his eyes at the obvious change in subject. “Maybe if you pay them well enough, they’ll forgive you for ditching Sunday dinner again.”

Eugene ran a hand through his hair to quickly perfect it. “Maybe if my professor would loosen up a little, I wouldn’t have to miss Sunday dinner.”

“Dude, that’s your own fault. At least start turning your projects in on actual drawing paper.”

Eugene grimaced. “The girls told you about that?”

“Oh yeah. And they showed me your last assignment. It’s bad.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Once home, Eugene could not have predicted just how livid his nieces would be at the prospect of their uncle ditching their family plans. It took quite a bit of apologizing—and several twenties—to earn a smidgen of their forgiveness. 

“I’m telling you, if I didn’t have to make up that drawing assignment, I’d be able to come!” He restated, shelling out one final twenty for Kiera.

“You know, if you took the class seriously for once, Rapunzel would let you off easy.” Kiera retorted, happily pocketing her new loot and kicking back where she and her sister still sat on his couch.

Cat recounted her new winnings for the fifth time, just to rub it in Eugene’s face. “Rapunzel’s really not a tough professor. She just won’t take any of your crap.”

Eugene tapped his foot impatiently. “You two are free to leave my apartment anytime now.”

But his nieces were enjoying themselves now—and Max was enjoying the extra cuddle time. Cat tapped Kiera’s shoulder. “Did you hear about how he tried the smolder on Rapunzel?!”

“You did  _ what?! _ ” Kiera’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Even Pascal and Pilou chirped with shock from her lap. “What the crap made you think Rapunzel would ever fall for that dumb trick?! The only people who fall for that are the ones that pay you to rip off your clothes.” 

“Okay, out of my house.” Eugene chased the two girls from the couch and out the door. “Shoo shoo, I’ve got work to do and you’ve gotta get home before your dad has my head for keeping you out late.”

Cat and Kiera dared to giggle at his annoyance, but their quick “love you”s and goodbyes were enough to melt his steely demeanor. Eugene waved them off as they drove away into the chilly night. Once they were out of sight he closed the door and slumped against the frame.

Max trotted up and nosed his leg. Eugene absentmindedly ruffled Max’s fur, musing over everything he still had to do before he could finally call it a night. The girls had fed and set most all of the animals up for the night. Spud and Suharik were happy with their heaters; Trash Can was burrowed away and grumpy as usual; Daisy was starting to bundle up in her own feathers for the night; beds were set out for the cats if need be, Stan and Pete blubbled away and Hamuel….was fast asleep in a shoe. 

Eugene sighed in relief and eyed the three usual compatriots to his late-night studying; Pascal, peeking out from Max’s fur, and Pilou, now crawling her way up Eugene to settle against his neck. “So...grading papers, thesis project, or art class? Which one should I work on?”

Max’s tail wagged a little at the word “art,” probably because it sounded like “park” to his dog ears. But Eugene would take it as a confirmation. “Art class it is, then.”

Eugene settled in on his couch, caffeine and Netflix ready to keep him awake for the long night, and flipped open the new sketchbook. Yes, he had caved and bought legitimate materials for the class. And he would actually put some effort into this assignment. Rapunzel would be dumbfounded, just wait. She would be so utterly speechless and he would rub it in her face for days on end. That would probably make her blush—she blushed  _ so  _ easily. 

As he poured over the reference photos, Eugene had to briefly wonder if his professor-student had some point about paying attention to repeated coincidences. There was definitely a pattern to Rapunzel repeatedly bewildering him. But even as he mused on it, Eugene immediately rejected the idea. 

There wasn’t a pattern to their interaction, he decided. And even if there was he certainly wasn’t going to “listen to it” like Rapunzel would suggest. If Fate was purposefully trying to lead him somewhere, he didn’t care for it. Eugene was a man that forged his own paths, he didn’t “follow” anything.

_ Reject the lot life hands you _ ; that method had worked all his life, why wouldn’t it work now?


	3. Act Like Nothing’s Wrong

Honestly, Rapunzel _wished_ the worst part of her week had been dealing with knowledge of Fitzherbert’s secret profession.

She pushed off the side of the pool for another lap. Her sides were burning, and her throat was raw with every breath. Good. She needed the distraction. From everything. After what happened the night before, she needed to escape somewhere, and the indoor pool on campus was the first place that came to mind. It was virtually empty on Saturday nights. Which was perfect right now. She dove under and kicked harder.

In retrospect, knowing Fitzherbert’s line of work _had_ been the worst part of Rapunzel’s week up until last night. She’d managed to convince herself over the weekend that she didn’t care. She had classes with nude models, for heaven’s sake. Seeing a man’s naked body shouldn’t have made her squeamish in the slightest. So why would it be any different with Fitzherbert? Sure, he had winked and thrown his clothes at her, but that was just part of a performance. It hadn’t been a legitimate come-on. So, while definitely shocking, Rapunzel was confident on the bus Monday morning that all would be completely normal and nothing was any odder about her student-professor relationship with Eugene Fitzherbert.

That is, until he walked into her class and Rapunzel nearly choked on and/or spit her latte halfway across the room, because even with his jacket and jeans _she knew what was under there._ Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice anything was off about her attitude, dozing as he was in the back of the room. For once, Rapunzel thanked the high heavens for his apathy. By the end of the day, she had convinced herself yet again that everything was totally normal.

It’s not hard to guess what happened Tuesday.

It was during that Shakespeare 101 class when Rapunzel didn’t volunteer to read out loud —highly unusual for her— that Fitzherbert finally noticed something was off. And her continued avoidance of eye-contact with him during the next two days did nothing to help that. Fitzherbert actually had the _nerve_ to call on her _specifically_ in his Thursday class. What’s worse, the look on his face wasn’t the general confusion he’d displayed over the past two days, but was actually bordering on some semblance of _concern._

She did _not_ need Eugene Fitzherbert being concerned about her.

All day Friday, Rapunzel’s mind had reeled. Fitzherbert’s side job shouldn’t have been bothering her, and yet it was. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. It was like a leech that latched on to her brain and sucked away every bit of concentration she had. Why was it so distressing?!

Well, maybe distressing wasn’t the right word. The feeling that churned in her nerves wasn’t distress or even anxiety—she was well acquainted with those. It was more akin to….anticipation. Like every fiber of her being was preparing for something that would change her life. 

That’s what was causing her anxiety about Fitzherbert, she decided in frustration. Her life had already seen enough change. She didn’t need anymore. Whatever it was about her relationship with Fitzherbert that her subconscious apparently anticipated would be life altering, Rapunzel didn’t want it. Frankly, it was about time Fate put the brakes on and just let her figure out how to live life a little.

With all of this jumbling her thoughts, Rapunzel hadn’t been terribly talkative for the entire week. Which, of course, her roommates were quick to notice. Especially Cassandra.

“Okay,” Cass slammed her purse down on the kitchen table that Friday night, barely home for two minutes. “What’s going on, Raps?”

Rapunzel felt herself clamming up under Cass’s infuriated stare. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not ‘nothing,’” she sat down across from where Rapunzel had been working. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we went to that stupid strip club. Did it really freak you out that much?”

Rapunzel grit her teeth. Cass didn’t need to be so demeaning about this. “Quite honestly, yes, it did. But I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Raps,” Cass sighed as though dealing with an impertinent child, “You used to talk to me all the time. Why are you making this so hard now?”

The comment twisted Rapunzel’s heart. Cass wanted _her_ to talk? Rapunzel was the one to do all the talking in their friendship; Cass didn’t exactly have a solid case here. “You know,” she began before she could stop herself, “Maybe if you actually tried to emote for once instead of telling me to shut up all the time, we might talk more.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Although...the sentiment wasn’t exactly untrue.

Cass’s jaw dropped. She stared in shock for a moment before finding words to retort. “And maybe if _you_ actually talked to me like a regular person instead of berating me or trying to be my therapist, we might get somewhere.”

“I don’t—! I just…” Rapuzel swallowed hard. The spark of fight in her was quickly extinguishing. She hated instigating fights; maybe she could fix it. “I just don’t wanna talk about _this_ right now, okay?” Rapunzel ducked her head back into her work. Maybe Cass would drop it now; “it” being whatever obscure thing they were fighting about this time.

Instead Cass ran a hand across her face. “Why do you always do this, Raps?”

Rapunzel tensed. “Do what?”

“ _This_! The moment anyone tries to push you a little past your comfort zone, you freak out and ignore the problem like it doesn’t exist. Why don’t you just get a backbone for once?!”

“You—!” Rapunzel bit back the words: _You know why,_ she wanted to say. But she knew that wasn’t true. Not entirely. Cass knew the basic facts about Rapunzel’s past but not... everything. “You—you wouldn’t understand.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “ _Wow_ , okay, are we in high school? Fine, don’t listen to me then.” Cass grabbed her purse and shoved aside the chair.

Hot tears stung at the back of Rapunzel’s eyes. “What do you want me to do, Cass?!” 

She’d meant it as an accusation, but Cass turned in the threshold to the hallway with a steely look that sent daggers into Rapunzel’s heart. “I don’t know, Rapunzel. I honestly don’t know.”

Rapunzel heard Cass’s door slam down the hall. Clenching her teeth, she fought back her blurring vision and forced herself to study until the burning in her veins was smothered with exhaustion.

All day Saturday, the silent tension in the apartment had been breathing down Rapunzel’s neck until she felt like she might suffocate. The only place she could think to escape was the pool. If she was going to hold her breath, she’d rather do it under water than in her own living space. And so, she was now racing back and forth through the water, wanting the pounding in her ears to grow loud enough to drown out her own thoughts.

It wasn’t working.

Rapunzel’s hands smacked the edge of the pool and she sputtered to a halt. She would have cared about how her knuckles cracked and throbbed when hitting the concrete edge, but it was a distraction. And distractions felt great right now. Rapunzel whipped the wet hair from her face and ran a hand across her eyes to see again. It took a few heavy gulps of air before she registered the pair of bare feet in front of her.

“I thought I recognized the fish in the pool,” a horribly familiar voice teased overhead.

Rapunzel froze, the world suddenly closing in around her. She slid her eyes up the hairless, slightly tanned legs to a faded pink hoodie with “Malibu” written across the chest, and finally to a bespectacled face she unfortunately recognized _very_ well.

Eugene—Professor Fitzherbert, whatever— smirked down at her, towel thrown over his shoulder. 

_Oh no._

Rapunzel riveted her eyes back to the concrete floor. Ever since last night she’d actually managed to forget about _this_ problem. But now it was back, staring her in the face with the same smug grin as always.

Rapunzel did her best not to groan aloud. Why did he have to come by _now_ ? She already had enough to deal with today. She didn’t need Fitzherbert’s _everything_ screwing it up even worse.

“Hi….Professor.” She grinded her teeth on the word.

“Psh, ‘Professor’?” He dropped the towel with a flick of his wrist and had the _gall_ to sit down, his legs submerging in the water right beside her. “We’re not on the clock right now. Pretty sure we can forego the formalities.”

Rapunzel gripped the edge of the pool tighter. “Right...um….Eugene…”

“Wow. Don’t choke.”

Rapunzel shot him a glare, expecting that smug grin in response to her growing blush, but instead found him with a furrowed brow.

He held his hands up in defense. “Sorry, just...joking.”

Rapunzel dropped her forehead to the concrete edge. She still hadn’t caught her breath from the work out, and now her head was even more muddled than before. Today was just _not_ her day. Why did he have to come by the pool _now,_ of all times? The Cass issue was already enough to deal with, and now Mr. Stripper had to waltz back in and remind her of her other problem.

Which it was still a mystery as to _why_ it was a problem. The job itself wasn’t an issue; his accidental flirting wasn’t an issue; seeing his naked body wasn’t an issue. It was the nagging in the back of her mind— that indiscernible sense there was something she needed to pay attention to. 

Couldn’t Fate just screw off for a minute?

Fitzherbert — _Eugene_ — sighed just enough so the mild sound echoed through the tiled room. In his dappled reflection cast on the teal water, Rapunzel could discern the pink Malibu hoodie being pulled over his head. She could almost hear her heart stop. Her eyes made the dreadful trek up from the floor to him.

Okay, so maybe seeing his body was a little bit of an issue. Because it was… Well… 

...Not bad.

He happened to meet her stare and Rapunzel nearly yelped. There was no way he missed her tomato-red blush now. He cocked an eyebrow at what was the first sustained eye contact they’d maintained in quite a while. “Might I ask why you’ve been remarkably out of character all week?”

“I—what?” Rapunzel squeaked.

He shrugged nonchalantly—the butterflies in her stomach went wild at the sight of his bare muscles moving. “I’ve just noticed you’ve been a bit quiet. Which is weird, since you’re usually berating me for being late or sleeping —and eccetera— or trying to out-professor me in Shakespeare.” 

He struck a proud pose, hand to his sculpted chest— _her face was burning now._ “Unless my ‘late’ assignment from Monday astounded you utterly speechless? Was it _really_ so shocking that I would put in a modicum of effort to a project, dear Professor? Maybe next time you’ll—”

“Isawyouatthestripclub.” 

His eyes snapped wide. “…what?”

Rapunzel sank further into the pool, “I saw you…at the strip club…”

“…oh.”

Lapping water was the only sound for a solid minute. Rapunzel considered just submerging completely and waiting for the sweet release of death.

“So that….” He stammered, “....that explains a lot.”

Rapunzel sank even lower, now tasting the chlorine.

“I...feel like I should apologize.”

Her head snapped up, sending a few droplets flying. “For what?”

Shockingly, Eugene had hunched in on himself sheepishly—a complete breakaway from his usual manner. “I don’t know, for traumatizing you?”

Rapunzel couldn’t resist the burst of nervous laughter that bubbled from her. “It’s not your fault! I just shouldn’t have let my roommates drag me to a strip club for the first time! I would have freaked out no matter who it was up there, so just because I saw _you_ get naked, that doesn’t mean—”

“Wait, _what?”_

Rapunzel snapped her big mouth shut. 

At the very least, Eugene looked just as freaked out as she felt. “How much of my set did you watch?”

Rapunzel bit her lip. “Not—not all of it. Just the beginning...and the very end.”

For the first time in the two weeks Rapunzel had known him, Eugene Fitzherbert _blushed._ “So you saw…my…”

She nodded once.

“...ah.” He crossed his arms and legs in a futile effort to hide all of his past exposure. “So…”

_Why is he trying to drag this out?!_ Rapunzel screamed internally. Maybe she could make a break for it. The gym door wasn’t that far; if she ran, she could be in her car in a minute tops. Then again, getting out of the water where he could see her in only her swimsuit—modest as it was—sounded just as mortifying. She didn’t need their odd relationship being anymore _exposed_ than it already was.

“So _I_ was your first stripper?” Despite how casual he attempted to keep the question, his voice still cracked on the last word.

Well _that_ was a worse way to put it. Rapunzel rolled her eyes; she would have to endure this conversation for better or for worse. “Yes, you were my first.”

“Did you enjoy the show at least?” 

“You mean _before_ I knew it was you?”

The comment earned her a chuckle from him. Rapunzel looked up again, half-expecting a cocky grin, but was pleasantly surprised to find the beginnings of a humble smile. A smidge of tension left her bones; she had to remember that Fitzherbert wasn’t always so….Fitzherbert. There were rare times when he let down his persona, and the person on the other side wasn’t quite so insufferable. And it seemed that a little embarrassment on his end had brought out that other person.

A twinge of shame irked Rapunzel; there she had gone, judging him too quickly. She tried to change her acidic tone to one more pleasant. “I’ll admit, I was enjoying it. You’re...kind of amazing up there on the bull.”

Eugene smiled bashfully. “Thanks. Took a lot of practice and faceplanting.”

“I can only imagine,” Rapunzel giggled. “Plus, add stripping on top of the dancing, it’s mind-blowing that you can stay up there at all. If you hadn’t thrown your vest in my face, I might have actually stayed to watch the rest of the—”

Eugene snapped upright, jaw dropping. _“It was you!”_

“Who—what??”

He kept pointing his finger in her face. “It was you! _You’re_ the one I threw my vest at and made run out of the bar screaming! Everyone was talking about it, but I wasn’t wearing my glasses so I couldn’t see who it was! I swear, if I had known it was you I _never_ would have done that!”

“Oh _really?_ ” Rapunzel hoisted herself up to set her elbows on the edge of the pool, suddenly feeling a little impish. “You _never_ would have flirted with me if you had known?”

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” he countered indignantly, “I have absolutely no objection to flirting with someone cute but I didn’t—” He flushed red again, like he had accidentally divulged his deepest darkest secret.

Making Eugene Fitzherbert blush was the best vengeful satisfaction Rapunzel had ever known. Even if she had told herself that getting petty revenge on him wasn’t worth it, seeing him turn beet red a second time at her teasing was definitely worth the risk of repercussions.

Eugene narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to put words in my mouth, but it’s not going to work.”

Rapunzel grinned as mockingly as possible. “I think it already has.”

“Is that your attempt at a smolder? Because it’s not working.”

Rapunzel scoffed, “Neither did yours.”

“Aaaand she’s back,” Eugene shook his head, now grinning as well. “I gotta say, I was starting to miss the banter.”

Rapunzel felt a flutter in her chest, “Really?”

“Well...yeah,” A new sentiment gleamed in his dark brown eyes, one she hadn’t seen in him before but somehow immediately recognized; sincerity. “I mean, yes your commentary in class frustrates me beyond all belief but...it’s also strange when it’s not there.”

“Oh,” Rapunzel was left quite speechless at the admittance. Because, once it was said, she was struck with how much she felt the same. “The feeling’s mutual, I guess.”

She hesitantly met Eugene’s gaze again. That hidden warmth was still shining in them. And the more she looked, the more she wanted to see it. Rapunzel had never noticed, but his eyes were a beautiful mahogany shade. The kind of color she would want to use to paint a forest glade in an afternoon glow. 

“So…” Rapunzel began, a bit timid, “What brought you to the pool today?” She could probably leave if she wanted to; she could go home and get some work done, now that the air between them was cleared. But...she didn’t really want to anymore. For the first time in weeks, she actually felt comfortable with someone else. For the first time in a _long_ time, she felt like she could talk with someone and they’d actually listen.

That wasn’t something she wanted to run away from.

Eugene rolled his eyes dramatically, “I was trying to grade all of those stupid Midsommer write-ups, but then my laptop decided it was the perfect time to crash. Now I have to redo _everything._ ”

“Stupid write-ups— _you_ assigned them!” 

“I know! And now I have to grade them, so they’re stupid!”

Rapunzel burst out laughing— not even caring how loudly it echoed across every surface. But Eugene didn’t seem to mind, as he joined in with her. It was a hearty, full sound that rumbled in his chest. It was so wonderful, so genuine that Rapunzel wished she’d made him truly laugh a long time ago.

Rapunzel did her best to quell her joviality, but it still spilled into her words, “Didn’t you take any notes by hand?”

“Nope,” he grimaced. “Because I had no reason to think my laptop would suddenly blue-screen on me. But it did, so I lost everything. And then I came here to blow off steam instead of throwing my cheap computer at the wall.” He shrugged again, the movement rolling through his biceps. “Although smashing the computer would have been _way_ more satisfying. Plus now I’m going to ruin my hair with chlorine.”

“You don’t _have_ to swim,” Rapunzel said, resting her chin on her arms. 

“No, maybe not. But I’m here, and there’s company. So I might as well stay.”

His smile was incredibly contagious, Rapunzel realized. 

Eugene cocked his head slightly. “So why are _you_ at the pool this evening?”

Snippets of last night’s argument flashed through Rapunzel’s memory. She did her best to ignore them. “Maybe I just came for a swim,” she replied lightly to cover the twinge of guilt in her gut. 

Eugene scoffed at the notion. “Please, no one comes to the pool alone on a Saturday night unless they’re trying to avoid something. I’m avoiding grading assignments, what are _you_ avoiding? Trying not to think about a certain strip-tease experience?”

Despite his humor, guilt still crawled up Rapunzel’s throat. “It’s nothing.”

Eugene’s playful grin dropped, like he had caught a glimpse of what she was trying so desperately to hide. “Are you sure?” 

_You ignore the problem like it doesn’t exist,_ Cass’s voice echoed in her head.

_You can’t handle anything,_ another voice whispered. _Incapable. Incompetent._

“I—” Rapunzel bit her tongue to stop herself. She forced a smile. “I’m just...dealing with some stuff.”

He looked tempted to pry further, but he let her excuse drop away without a response. Rapunzel nearly heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t prepared to start crying in a public pool. 

Except now, she had gone and made it awkward all over again. _Great,_ she berated herself. _Just when you start to have a normal conversation with someone, you screw it up again. Good job._ She searched for anything to release the tension.

Rapunzel caught sight again of Eugene’s incredibly well-formed and hairless pectorals. “Here’s an odd question,” she began. _This can’t possibly be any more awkward than this entire encounter._ “Do you have to be that hairless to be a stripper?”

Eugene glanced down at his exposed chest and raised an eyebrow, “Um, not necessarily. Why? You actually want to know more?”

Rapunzel felt the telltale flush of her cheeks starting again. She hated how easily she blushed. “Oh come on! Just answer the question! If we’re gonna make this _not_ weird between us, then I might as well have a better idea of what the heck it is you do!”

Eugene burst out laughing again. Which, even if it _was_ at her expense, it wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Maybe because of the way it made his eyes crinkle at the corners, or maybe because it was just so _real._

“You know what I do!” Eugene wheezed out. “You got a pretty good first hand experience of it!”

Unable to think of a decent comeback, Rapunzel resorted to splashing him.

“Hey!” He hurried to protect his hair. “That’s playing dirty!”

“You’re at a _pool!_ Did you think your hair wouldn’t get wet?!”

“That’s—that’s irrelevant!” 

Rapunzel fell apart into peels of giggles again. Eugene, although trying his best to scowl, still managed to let a hint of a smile sneak by.

“Okay, but seriously,” Rapunzel composed herself. “Do you have to be hairless to be a stripper, or is being bare as a newborn baby a choice for you?”

“It’s part of the job, thank you very much,” Eugene retorted with no small amount of pride. 

“It sounds like a big commitment to be hairless all the time.”

Eugene swung his feet in the water, “Well, as crazy as it sounds, I really do enjoy dancing, and strip dance is actually a lot of fun. So as daunting as it was when I first started, I can put in the effort to be hairless.”

Rapunzel’s eyes widened. “Dancing? Do you know other styles?”

Eugene snapped his mouth shut. “I...um….a little… I mean,” he struggled to find a way out of the question. “Everyone has to start somewhere with dancing. You don’t just _open_ with stripping.”

Rapunzel bit her lip, trying not to grin too much and embarrass him even more. “...what are you hiding?”

Eugene scanned her over, eyes narrowed, trying to predict her reaction to whatever he was hiding. Rapunzel scooted a little closer along the pool’s concrete edge and rested her chin on her hands.

That earned her a soft chuckle from Eugene. “Okay, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Promise.”

“Can I trust that promise?”

“Of course!” Rapunzel protested. “When I promise something, I never break that promise.”

Eugene raised one eyebrow.

“ _Ever_.”

He considered the truthfulness of that statement for another long moment. “Alright, but I’m trusting you on this, okay?”

“I won’t laugh, I promise.”

Eugene took a deep breath. “Alright. I used to study….ballet.”

“Oh.” She squeaked.

He pointed an accusing finger. “I see that smile.”

“But I’m not laughing.”

“It counts!”

“No, I never actually laughed! I didn’t break my promise!”

“You’re getting close! It counts!” Eugene truly tried his best to look offended, but even he was on the verge of losing a chuckle or two himself.

“Methinks the gent’man doth protest too much,” Rapunzel teased.

Eugene’s disapproval was apparent, “That’s too many syllables for iambic pentameter and you know it.”

“Not if I cut ‘gentleman’ just right.”

“And _that_ would be breaking the rules of verse,” Eugene’s professor voice trickled in. “Don’t make me dock you points in retrograde, Miss Rapunzel.”

Rapunzel straightened her shoulders to flaunt her scholarly prowess. “You said yourself, Shakespeare sometimes broke his own rules for the sake of a suitable phrase or rhyme. So _ha,_ there. _”_

“To make a _point_ ,” Eugene clarified. “Not because he got lazy.”

“Ah, of course,” she played along, “And you don’t think it’s possible that he _did_ get lazy with a few lines? And just figured no one would notice?”

Eugene shook his head at the suggestion, “Fine, I’ll admit, it’s not outside the realm of possibility. But I won’t accept that as a legitimate essay topic.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

Eugene flashed her a blinding-white smile, “I’m a stripper, I’m _always_ fun.”

Rapunzel, ever immune to his charms, settled for rolling her eyes again. “Now back to the subject you’re trying to avoid: ballet?”

Eugene slumped his shoulders in grumpy resignation. “Yes, ballet. I know, ballet and stripping is an odd combination to have in one’s repertoire.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rapunzel responded as she lifted herself from the pool to sit next to Eugene. He seemed a tad surprised by the new equal leveling. Even she surprised herself; sitting beside Eugene was comfortable. It was hard to believe that a few minutes ago she had been scared to even lift her head above the water to talk to him, and now she was eye-to-eye with him, not even sparing a thought to her bathing-suit clad exposure. “Sure ballet and stripping sound odd together, but I can only imagine that they require a lot of the same skills.”

Eugene cast an intrigued eye to their new closeness. “That’s actually pretty accurate. Both require a lot of strength in the legs.”

“Ah, so _that’s_ why you have such good balance up on that mechanical bull.”

Eugene shot her a finger gun. “Exactly.”

“So how did you get into ballet?” Rapunzel swung her feet in the water, playing with the gentle ripples. “Was it a childhood hobby? Did you parents get you into it?”

Eugene’s demeanor turned one-eighty. He stiffened, his relaxed smile hardened, and a shadow crossed his eyes behind his glasses. “I...no. I just...needed a change. From my old life.”

“Old life?”

His eyes flickered to her for a moment, and Rapunzel could practically see the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his head. “I was...I wasn’t in a good place. I was stuck in a cycle and didn’t have any other options.”

A chill overtook Rapunzel’s veins. She never should have pried; she knew better than that. And now the flash of guilt she felt at dredging up painful memories made her want to retreat from his side. “I—I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”

Eugene suddenly straightened and he flashed a clearly fake grin. “No, no, it’s not your fault. I started taking that a little farther than I needed to. You wouldn’t want to listen to all of that.” He began to ramble, the slightest shake in his voice. “Just ignore it. Forget I ever said—”

But Rapunzel didn’t hear the rest of it, not through the voices hissing in her mind.

_You ignore the problem like it doesn’t exist_ , Cass’s words echoed. Rapunzel’s stomach churned.

_Don’t make me listen to it, Rapunzel…_ Another voice crept in, one that haunted her to her core. _No one wants to listen…._

Every muscle seized in her body. She forced herself not to blink, knowing the grey eyes that would be staring back at her in the darkness. She couldn’t breathe; the air was too thick; the water too cold; the walls too close—

A shock of energy spurred her to action. In nearly one move, Rapunzel leapt to her feet and grabbed her few belongings by the pool’s edge.

She thought she heard Eugene ask something at her abruptness. But Rapunzel didn’t hear; she could hardly hear anything through the ringing in her ears. Her skin was too hot, but her blood was too cold. Her shaking hands fumbled with her keys. They clattered to the tiles.

Eugene dashed to her, picking up the dropped keys and offering them. The palpable confusion in his eyes rooted her in place for a single moment. 

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He sputtered. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s nothing,” she answered a little too quickly. She grabbed her keys from him and darted for the door. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Rapunzel?” His whisper was barely audible.

The sound halted her. This wasn’t fair, she realized even as the edges of her vision hazed with mounting panic. He deserved an explanation.

She white-knuckled the metal handle of the door. “I shouldn’t have asked but...I would have listened.”

With that, she left the door slamming shut behind her.


	4. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very long chapter ahead, be warned!

Students mingled outside the office, even after turning in their assignments. It was five on a Friday; time to talk evening plans.

Of course, college weekends are nothing like the movies. It’s not wildly expensive clubs, frat parties, or general Dionysius-like mayhem. Rather, it looks like the scene outside the closed office door of a student Shakespeare professor who had asked his students to print out their papers this time, since his laptop was on the fritz and they could spare the twenty-five cent printing fee.

Basically, boring.

Rapunzel eyed the three students chatting outside Eugene’s closed office door. Unfortunately, she recognized them from her Shakespeare class. Rapunzel shuffled her feet in discomfort; running into undergrads she knew was not something she particularly wanted to do right now. Not because they were undergrads, but because she didn’t want to answer the inevitable questions about why she had skipped class most of the week. She simply wasn’t in the mood to make up a viable excuse for her complete mental breakdown.

“Come on, Freid!” One of the girls groaned to her significantly taller friend, the complaints loud enough to be heard by Rapunzel hidden down the hall and around the corner. “I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll believe that,” the boy in the trio huffed the blue streak of hair from his eyes. “While you’re paying off your debts, where’s  _ my  _ money, Vex?”

The first girl —Vex— growled. “I told you, every time you remind me about it, the longer I delay paying you back your five bucks.”

“And I told  _ you _ that the longer you delay, the higher I raise your interest. You’re up to thirty-five percent, so by all means keep going.”

Rapunzel lingered where she hid as the trio finished bickering and finally decided on the cheapest place to split pizza that night. She heaved a sigh like she’d been holding her breath when their voices disappeared down the stairwell. Going to campus had required so much emotional preparation the past few days. After cancelling and skipping classes Monday and Tuesday, she had honestly tried to get through a full day of teaching on Wednesday. 

But the moment Eugene had walked through the door that first period, all of her resolve crumbled. The sudden rush of resurfaced panic was bad enough —but it was his eyes. Those mahogany eyes that she had thought were such a beautiful color were now dulled with undeniable hurt. That stung her to her core more than anything else.

Just as quickly as he had locked his gaze on her, Eugene averted it and took his seat in the back of the room, his posture displaying a complete loss of his usual air. Not a word passed from him the entire period. 

The guilt had nearly turned Rapunzel inside out.

She had hurt him. First she had pried about his past that she had no business asking about —especially when it clearly hurt him— and then she had run away the moment he’d let himself be a little vulnerable. 

The way he had whispered her name still rang in her head. He’d been pleading with her, and she had ignored it. All because she couldn’t get a handle on her own stupid emotions. She even had a chance to fix it at the end of class on Wednesday, considering how Eugene had lingered at the door. But she’d let him leave without a word, again because she couldn’t get her brain in order. As soon as he was gone, Rapunzel had locked the door and cried under her desk for three hours.

Mother had been right; she  _ was  _ completely useless.

Rapunzel shook her mother’s voice from her head before it could start it’s seething reprimands again, and started down the long hallway to Eugene’s office door. It seemed a mile away, and the echo of her feet on the linoleum was deafening. But not loud enough to drown out her mother’s whispers. With every step they rang in her skull;  _ gullible, naive, immature… _

Eugene had no idea a single phrase would set off so much for Rapunzel. It wasn’t his fault. Still, she could have at least explained something to him that night before she ran from the pool. As much as her brain was telling her he didn’t deserve her emotional baggage, she couldn’t help but think —hope, really— that maybe Eugene would have listened if she’d told him. He didn’t need to hear about all of the turmoil raging in her, but maybe he would have listened to a little bit. That would be more than anyone had listened to her in….

Well,  _ ever. _

It had actually been nice to just talk with him so casually. She wondered if, for a moment, he had felt the same, sitting at the edge of the water and laughing so openly like she’d never seen him do. But she knew that bridge was now well burned. Nearly a full week of cold shoulders on her part had frozen over any potential friendship she and Eugene Fitzherbert might have had. The best she could do was just try not to hurt him again for the rest of the semester. And so long as she stayed away from him, she could probably manage that.

_ You ignore the problem like it doesn’t exist.  _ Cass’s accusation struck her again. Rapunzel sighed; Cass was right. 

The world swam back into focus as she stopped in front of the office door. The white lettering on the little black plaque reading “Fitzherbert” told her this was the right office.

Rapunzel clutched her meager three-page paper. It wasn’t nearly as thorough as she would have liked; it barely reached the page limit. But that didn’t matter right now, she reminded herself. She just had to turn it in and move on with her life. The drop-box was right there, brimming with all of her classmates’ assignments. She just had to pop her paper in with the rest of them and she could run back home to hide under the covers.

What was taking her so long? Dropping off a paper should have taken two seconds. Why weren’t her limbs obeying her? All she had to do was reach out and—

The door flew open. Rapunzel jumped back with a squeak, startling the occupant.

Eugene let out a rather unmanly yelp of his own, hand flying to his heart. A split second later he realized who she was, and that pained look flashed through his mahogany eyes again. 

Rapunzel wanted to sink into the floor.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Sorry, I was...just...checking to make sure the papers were in on time.”

_ A response would be good right about now _ , Rapunzel thought to herself. But no coherent words were making it from her brain to her mouth. Something like  _ “Sorry for skipping class! Had a cold!” _ Or  _ “Hey, remember that really awkward conversation? Super weird! Sorry for prying about your past and making you feel like a jerk because I can’t handle my own stupid emotions!” _

None of that made it out. All she could do was gape like a fish with her paper in hand.

Eugene glanced to the full drop box, then to essay she still clutched. “I’m assuming you were about to turn that in. I won’t be  _ that _ professor and tell you it’s late.” He held out his hand for it.

Rapunzel continued to stare. What was so hard? Just hand him the paper and leave; easy as pie.

_ What a stupid phrase,  _ she thought,  _ Pie is hard to make. _

Still not receiving the paper, Eugene pulled back his hand, suddenly looking very small and awkward. “Um…” he ran that same hand through his immaculate hair; he didn’t even seem to notice how it mussed the style. “Hey, I noticed you weren’t in class the last few days.”

_ Oh snap.  _ Rapunzel braced herself.

“And um…”

_ Here we go. Awkward explanation time. _

“I’m really sorry for dumping all of that on you last week.”

“…what?”

He heaved a sigh. “That was too much for me to suddenly unload on you. I should have been more sensitive to the fact that someone might be uncomfortable hearing about my past. It was completely unfair of me to make you listen to that. So...I’m sorry.”

Rapunzel blinked in disbelief. “I—you—that’s not—” What could she even say? Was _that_ what had been bothering him all week? She was utterly baffled —yet again— by Eugene Fitzherbert, but for a completely new reason this time. “You didn’t do anything wrong. _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing.”

It was Eugene’s turn to reel in confusion. “Why?”

“Because I was prying about your past! I shouldn’t have pressed you about it.”

“But….you left…”

Rapunzel’s face flushed; she had at least been right about that, then. Her running away had deeply hurt Eugene. “I….I shouldn’t have run off. I’m so sorry, it wasn’t you, I swear. Something else was bothering me.”

His pitiful confusion immediately snapped to concern. “Is everything okay?”

By force of habit, Rapunzel began to close in on herself under the call to attention. “I— it’s fine, it’s nothing—”

“It’s not nothing,” Eugene interjected, firm but surprisingly gentle. “If something’s bothering you, then it matters.

She supposed that was true, even if she had never really experienced that sentiment from someone else. “I….I’m better now.”

Eugene nodded, only looking half-convinced, but at least enough to start dropping the subject. “So...that’s why you left?”

“Yeah. That’s why.”  _ I also have a really bad habit of running away,  _ Rapunzel almost added, but decided against it. He didn’t need to know that. “But I meant what I said when I left,” Rapunzel risked meeting his eyes. “I would have listened.”

It was Eugene’s turn to be speechless. He started to form a few sentences —almost cracked a joke— but each died on his tongue before they made it past his lips. As the words fell short, all he could do was search her gaze with a stare so deep it seemed he was trying to decipher her very thoughts. And perhaps he found something, because his eyes began to gleam with wonder. 

“Really?” He struggled to whisper the question.

“Really,” Rapunzel assured him.

The sincerity behind her admission drew a hesitant smile from him. “Well, just so you know, I didn’t feel like you weren’t prying. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Rapunzel hadn’t been expecting that, but it did help relieve some of the weight from her shoulders. “Oh...I didn’t?”

He shook his head, that contagious smile growing wider. “No, not at all. Honestly, I really enjoyed talking with you that night.”

Rapunzel knew her cheeks were warm, but for the first time she didn’t mind. “Same; it was nice getting to know you a little better.”

The pair shared a long quiet moment. It was a bit odd, but so long as the air was beginning to clear between them, they could bear a little awkwardness. Sharing the other’s company, they were starting to realize, was worth it.

Eugene‘s grin turned playful, “Are you hungry? I know a great place for dinner.”

Rapunzel couldn’t resist a short giggle; it was, weirdly enough, rather nice to see a bit of his cocky attitude returning. “Any reason why?”

“I don’t know, I just think it might be a good way to break the ice. The three-foot layer of ice that we seem to have made for ourselves.”

Rapunzel considered the idea for a moment; she’d been cooped up with a horrible cocktail of emotions in her jumbled brain all week. Maybe a night out was exactly what she needed to get herself back in order. “You know what,” she responded before she could overthink it, “Why not. I’ve been craving Chinese for a while.”

Eugene plucked the stack of papers from the drop box on his door, “Chinese it is then; my treat.”

“What? No, I can’t let you do that.”

His telltale smug grin made a grand reappearance as he snatched the essay from her hand and added it to his pile, “I have the money to pay, so I insist. And I think you know  _ why _ I have the money to pay.”

Rapunzel narrowed her eyes at the joke made at her expense, “No need to remind me.”

“You mean you _ didn’t  _ enjoy seeing me rip off my clothes?” Eugene feigned shock, tossing the turned-in assignments on the plush chair in his office. 

“I was too busy screaming into your sweaty vest to actually see that part, remember?”

Eugene paused, cheeks tinting slightly pink as he undoubtedly recalled which part —or  _ parts _ — of his set Rapunzel had seen. “Um, fair point,” Eugene conceded, shrugging on his grey coat before locking the office door. “I guess it’s not necessarily enjoyable to see your professor stripping. It’s probably hard not to remember the B minus they assigned you when their butt is in your face, no matter _ how  _ tight it is.” 

Rapunzel gagged at the reminder. “Someone is certainly confident in his physical appearance.”

“Do I have any reason not to be?” He replied with a finger gun and a wink. 

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, you got me there.”

“So you admit I’m attractive?”

“I admit you are  _ conventionally _ attractive. Don’t go getting a big head.”

“Oh come on!” Eugene gasped in mock offense. “I admitted you are marginally cute! Turnabout is fair play,  _ Professor. _ ”

Rapunzel straightened her shoulders proudly. “You actually called me professor? I do like the sound of that.”

“Only because—” Whatever witty reply Eugene had prepared halted when he comprehended Rapunzel’s outfit. “Don’t you have a jacket or something? Or….longer pants?”

Rapunzel looked down to her paint-stained shortalls and thin sweater. “Um, why?”

“It’s fifty degrees out there. It’s cold.”

“Wha— _ fifty is not cold! _ ”

“What  _ planet _ are you from where fifty isn’t cold?!”

“Where are you from that it  _ is _ ?!”

It was Eugene’s turn to roll his eyes. “Okay,  _ fine _ . Just don’t go looking to steal my coat later.”

Rapunzel chuckled as they started down the hallway side-by-side. “So the gentleman wouldn’t give his jacket to the lady?”

“Not unless she throws me a tip.”

———

The passing of a few hours found Rapunzel and Eugene tucked away in a quiet corner of a quaint restaurant. The warm dim lights and savory scents were the only other occupants for the late evening.

“Thumb here —index finger here —It’s not that hard!” Eugene struggled to explain through his snickers.

Despite the demonstration, Rapunzel still clacked the chopsticks clumsy and loose. “It’s not happening, I promise you! I can’t figure out chopsticks!”

“Oh, just like you promised not to laugh?”

“Hey I didn’t laugh at the ballet, I laughed at you being cute and weird about the ballet.”

Eugene perked up at the word  _ cute _ but he seemed to ignore it otherwise.  _ Thank goodness, _ Rapunzel internally sighed in relief; she really hadn’t meant for that to slip out. Eugene was just a bit dorky and nerdy, she reasoned. Especially with those glasses. People usually considered that cute, didn’t they? Wasn’t that generally accepted?

“Okay, one more time,” Eugene reached across the table—their dishes having long since been cleared away— to entwine his fingers with hers.

It took considerable effort on Rapunzel’s part to watch how he helped her hold the chopsticks, as opposed to watching how the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt exposed his sculpted forearms. And how the deep maroon vest accentuated the warm undertones of his hair. _ That’s just my artist brain,  _ Rapunzel kicked herself mentally.  _ Artist brain artist brain artist— _

“There!” Eugene lifted his hands in triumph.

The chopsticks were perfectly balanced in Rapunzel’s fingers, a little to her embarrassment. She’d been so preoccupied with staring — _ not _ staring— at his arms that she hadn’t even taken time to notice the feel of his hands against hers.

Not that she would enjoy that. At all.

Unfortunately, she had also been so preoccupied she hadn’t paid attention to his explanation on how to properly use the sticks. Rapunzel made one half-hearted attempt to clack them together and dropped both.

That was all it took to trigger Eugene’s hyena-like peels of laughter.

She couldn’t help but join in, despite her failure, “I’m telling you, being able to hold chopsticks right must be a genetic trait, like whistling. Either you’ve got it or you don’t.”

Eugene wicked away a few tears, his laughter barely subsiding enough for him to wheeze out, “You can’t whistle?”

“Nope, and believe me I have tried. It’s impossible for me.”

“It’s not that hard. Just put your tongue half-way in your mouth and blow,” he demonstrated with a single clear note.

Rapunzel only succeeded in hissing out a sound like a dying ballooned, proving her point. “See?! I’m telling you, it’s impossible!”

“Come on, try again.”

Again, she tried and failed. “I sound like a bird with laryngitis. Whistling is genetic.”

Eugene scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Look it up, there’s studies about it. You have to have the whistling gene to be able to do it.”

“Or,” he shot her a teasing grin, “Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

“If you make me do it again, I’m just going to spit on you.”

Eugene held up his hands in surrender, still grinning brightly. Rapunzel was learning she could actually  _ enjoy  _ that grin of his. Yes, most of the time it was smarmy. So those times when it was soft and genuine, it almost seemed like the smile of a different person.

Or maybe, Rapunzel was starting to realize, her first impressions of him were simply wrong altogether. Eugene Fitzherbert wasn’t made of masked personas replacing and dropping one another; each aspect of him was another color on his canvas, arranged in a beautifully incongruous array.

Rapunzel wasn’t sure she understood the full painting yet, but she wanted to try.

Quips and jests bantered back and forth for longer than either could keep track. It was only when a waiter came to tell them they were closed that the pair finally snapped out of their little bubble. Eugene dropped an extra tip on the table as they scurried out into the debatably-chilly night.

“Any reason for the extra tip?” Rapunzel asked.

Eugene rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down to ward off the slight bite in the air. “I felt a little bad that they let us stay there so long. I had no idea it was this late.”

Rapunzel fished her phone from her pocket to check the time, “It’s only nine-thirty. That’s not late. Especially on a Friday.”

“I guess not. I just don’t wanna keep you out if you have something you need to do.”

“I can almost guarantee that our students are going to be out  _ way  _ later than this tonight. Well, at the very least Varian, Vex, and Freid will be. Judging by how Vex was still begging for money from them.”

Eugene snorted in an effort to restrain a guffaw of laughter. “Is Varian still upping her interest?”

“Yep. At this point Vex is going to be more in debt to him than to her student loans.”

The student-professors shared a relatable groan at the notion of loans.

Eugene set a hand on his hip. “Well, I still doubt you’re nearly as much of a party girl as those three are.”

Rapunzel nearly bristled; that sounded too much like the familiar criticisms from her roommates. She considered making some excuse and leaving before she could end up annoying Eugene, because how could anyone ever see her as anything except this frail boring—

She throttled those thoughts before they could take hold in her brain. She wasn’t doing this again. Not tonight. Eugene had given her a second chance. She wouldn’t run away again.

Rapunzel held her head high. “I can be fun.”

“You?” Eugene replied with very little shred of belief, “Little Miss By-The-Book?”

Rapunzel glanced up at him; there was no derision in his manner, only a playful egging from his smirk to the ready stance of his feet. Eugene didn’t know much about her yet, but it was clear that he wanted to learn.

So, maybe she could learn too. “Yes, even Miss By-The-Book can be daring enough to rival Mr Stripper.”

Eugene narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he wasn’t stopping her.

“For instance,” Rapunzel snatched his hand in hers, “We’re going to  _ that  _ bar and you can’t say no!”

Before he could think twice, Rapunzel was dragging him full-speed across the street to the dimly lit pub pouring out heavy metal music through the barred windows. Rapunzel shouldered open the narrow door to parade proudly into the muggy, grimy, dilapidated joint.

Rapunzel positively beamed at the new adventure.

Eugene, on the other hand, was far less enthusiastic. “The Snuggly Duckling Pub? Really?”

“What?” Rapunzel shrugged, “I like ducklings.”

“Yay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Eugene. It really doesn’t look that bad. It has character.”  _ Character  _ meaning the various stains, dents, and holes riddling the wooden walls, decorated with musty old photos and records from rock artists of a classic bygone era. 

“This is  _ clearly  _ a run-down biker bar,” Eugene hushed low enough to keep secret his disdain from prying ears. “I don’t know if you’ve taken a good look at us, but we stick out like a couple of sore thumbs around here.”

Rapunzel examined Eugene’s pristine appearance and her own comfy-cozy aesthetic, versus the leather-and-metal-clad tattooed ruffians now eyeing the newcomers. “I don’t see the problem. We’re coming to pay for drinks, so why would they refuse our patronage?”

Eugene scowled but was unable to come up with a viable argument. “Great. We’re staying for drinks. Provided we taste anything over the smell.”

Rapunzel smacked Eugene’s arm and made for the bar. “Be nice!”

“Have you taken a deep breath through the nose? Are you smelling what I’m smelling?” Eugene insisted as Rapunzel settled them on a set of barstools in between a few muscled men. “Because part of that is man smell, and the other part is  _ really  _ bad man smell. Overall, it just smells like the color brown. Your thoughts?”

A heavy hand smacked down on the bar in front of them. The bartender, a particularly large brute with a wiry mustache, glared at Eugene. “And what do you think  _ you _ want?”

Rapunzel came to Eugene’s aid, who was withering under the bartender’s stare. “I think we would like the house speciality, sir. Whatever is your absolute favorite, that’s what we want!”

The bartender cocked a baffled eyebrow at the diminutive girl. “You want a jägermeister?” 

“Nope,” Eugene snapped out of his paralysis. “No, no, she doesn’t want that. We’ll just have a couple of beers.  _ Light _ beers.”

“Aww, Eugene!” Rapunzel replied. “I’ve never had a jägermeister, but I’ve wanted to try!”

“Rapunzel—” Eugene cut in. “It’ll get you absolutely  _ smashed. _ ”

She snapped her mouth shut. “Not  _ quite _ what I was looking for tonight,” she did her best to return to her bubbly self again, “But I will certainly have to come back and try it, specially prepared by Mister…” Rapunzel gestured to the bartender.

The slightest beginnings of a smile twitched at the gruff man’s lip. “....Hookhand.”

Eugene blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

“Hookhand,” he shot Eugene another glare. “That’s what they call me. Wanna find out why, pretty boy?”

Eugene paled and turtled in on himself.

Rapunzel, once again, came to Eugene’s rescue. “Hookhand is a  _ fantastic  _ name,” she smiled to the bartender.

His mustache twitched again as he fought back a grin. Hookhand grumbled something and quickly set to work on the light beers.

Eugene, free from Hookhand’s wrath, began to dig his wallet out from his pocket.

“Oh no, I’ll pay for the drinks!” Rapunzel insisted.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he replied, rifling through the old receipts to the right card.

“You paid for dinner, I can pay for drinks.” She batted her eyelashes in what she hoped was a cute enough plea to make him cave. “Please?”

It worked like a charm; Eugene visibly deflated. “I —but—” he sputtered, “Well, fine. But next time, I pay for drinks.”

_ Next time?  _ Rapunzel mused. “Only if I get to pay for dinner.”

“That’s just if you can beat me to it. And so long as you don’t do that Bambi-eye thing again.”

Rapunzel nearly snorted a laugh. “Was it really that effective? Is that  _ my  _ smolder?”

Eugene’s hand flew over his heart like he had been pierced. “You  _ dare  _ challenge the smolder?” 

“Bring it, Pretty Boy.”

A mighty competition waged —the Bambi-Eyes against The Smolder— until Hookhand cleared his throat and drew their attention to the drinks ready for them. The battle was left at a draw, even though Rapunzel knew she _ totally  _ won, no matter how much Eugene insisted otherwise. 

Rapunzel swirled the beer, delighted to watch the layer of foam swish about. “So, Eugene.”

He glanced over the rim of his glass.

“You’re a ballet dancer turned stripper turned professor. Care to explain that odd progression?” Rapunzel knew well enough to not ask too much about what came before the stripping, but the latter alone she figured would be a safe route.

Eugene shrugged, unphased. “It’s like you said before; ballet and stripping use a lot of the same muscles. I like dancing, I’m pretty sexy, it made sense.”

Rapunzel resisted the urge to chuckle at the word  _ sexy.  _ “Okay, but how did you even get introduced to the stripping scene?”

“I saw an audition posted and I went. It’s really not that interesting.”

“Then what about grad school? How did that all fit in?”

“I finished my undergrad and I started grad school. I stripped on the side. There isn’t a whole lot of backstory. However,” he took another swig of his beer. “When it comes to backstory, I am becoming  _ very  _ interested in yours.”

“How so?”

“You barely started your grad program last semester. That must mean you finished your undergrad in, what, three years?”

It was Rapunzel’s turn to shrug nonchalantly. “Two and a half, actually.”

Eugene nearly choked on his drink. “Wh— _ how? _ ”

Rapunzel wasn’t terribly surprised that he had deduced all of this, what with the little bits of information she had dropped in class about her age and time in the graduate program. Nevertheless, her gut still churned as the topic barely skirted a much more sensitive period of her life.

_ And this is exactly how you made Eugene feel,  _ her thoughts echoed. She shoved them aside again. Eugene was just asking about her schooling, nothing more. “I um…” Although as she thought about it, she realized just how truly  _ ludicrous  _ her educational history was. “I just took a lot of semesters back-to-back. Also the dean gave me permission to finish some of those general education classes during my grad work.”

Understanding dawned on Eugene. “So  _ that’s  _ why you’re taking Shakespeare? To fill your English credit?”

“Pretty much.”

“Huh. And here I thought you were taking it for fun.”

“It  _ is _ fun!”

“You won’t be saying that when we start  _ Macbeth. _ ”

Rapunzel giggled into her drink and took another sip. “So back to you. You say there isn’t a whole lot of backstory, then what about the present story? Tell me something about yourself.”

Eugene gave her an incredulous grin. “Something besides the fact that I’m your professor-slash-student and a stripper?”

_ Now  _ he was being secretive just to bug her. “Yes, something new. I know there’s more to Mr. Fitzherbert than just his scholarly reputation and dashing good looks.”

He scrunched his face in thought, honestly struggling to find anything more interesting to tell about himself. “I….have a dog?”

Rapunzel gasped.  _ “You have a dog?!” _

Eugene nearly fell out of his chair as she practically leapt in his face. “Ye-yes! Yes, I have a dog!”

“What’s his name? What breed is he? Is he a good boy? I bet he is! Or is it a girl and she’s a very good girl?”

“His name’s Max, he’s a Great Pyrenees, and he’s a jerk but yeah he’s a good boy! Does that answer it?”

Rapunzel couldn’t resist her squeal of delight. “I wanna meet him! Can I meet him? Please please  _ please  _ can I meet him??”

To his credit, Eugene didn’t seem annoyed by her enthusiasm so much as simply surprised. “You can find pictures of him on Facebook. I would show you on my phone, but my cloud storage and data absolutely suck.”

Rapunzel set her hands on her hips, thoroughly insistant. “I want to  _ meet  _ Max for myself, because pictures cannot do justice to his fluffy cuddles. Besides I…” a hint of embarrassment wove in past her excitement. “I don’t have Facebook.”

Eugene chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I also have a ton of pictures of him on Instagram.” He flashed a blinding grin. “Along with plenty of yours-truly.”

Rapunzel’s embarrassment only grew. “I don’t have that either.”

“Really? I would have thought you’d use it for an art account. What about Twitter?”

Rapunzel shook her head.

“Do you have  _ any  _ social media? Tumblr? Tiktok? Google Plus?  _ Anything?” _

She shook her head again.

He was quiet for a long moment. “Isn’t there any way people can stay in touch with you?”

Rapunzel twisted the ends of her hair in her fingers. “No but…that’s kind of the point.” She dropped her eyes to the beaten and stained bar counter. “I mean...it’s not like I’m impossible to reach. I have a phone. And my school email. I just don’t…”  _ I just don’t want people to find me,  _ she finished mentally. But she didn’t want to say that out loud.

Yet somehow, Eugene seemed to pick up on her unspoken explanation. “Is it something you wanna talk about?” He asked gently. Almost as though he understood her situation in a way others might not.

Rapunzel’s gut dropped. Even if he did possibly understand, Eugene didn’t need to be bothered with her issues.  _ He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.  _ “It’s…” her voice nearly betrayed her. “I wouldn’t want—“”

“Well, look who it is…”

Eugene stiffened like a board beside her. He whirled around to the dark gravely voice just over their shoulders. Rapunzel risked meeting the face attached to it.

Two hulking red-haired men stood too close for comfort. Their forms boasted a sharp leanness to their build that felt far more menacing than any of the other thugs in the bar.

The man sporting sideburns sneered at Eugene. “Haven’t seen you since you ditched us. We thought we heard you’d gone soft.” He flicked a speck of lint from Eugene’s vest. “Apparently so.”

Rapunzel scanned the air between Eugene and Sideburns. Eugene’s jaw was clenched, but he held his face firm, hiding the anxiety Rapunzel knew he must be feeling. “Stabbingtons,” he replied stiffly. “Long time no see.”

Rapunzel nearly reached out to set a hand on Eugene’s shoulder, when the other man caught her attention.

His single eye bored into Rapunzel, the opposing eyepatch a menacing black hole in his scarred face. His crooked mouth pulled back into a sneering grin. “Who’s the new plaything?”

Sideburns followed the other man’s prompting to Rapunzel as well. She froze like a deer in the headlights. The only word to describe their gaze was  _ hungry.  _

“ _ Hey, _ ” Eugene put his arm in front of Rapunzel. “Leave her out of this. Your problem is with  _ me _ .”

But the men only stepped closer to Rapunzel. “You holding out on us again? Why is it that every time you find something good, you gotta be selfish about it?”

Rapunzel couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel her shaking limbs. Couldn’t form words—or even a single thought. Her vision just tunneled in on the men as every fiber of her being clenched in on herself. The world was closing around her to this one moment; no escape—

Eugene shoved in front of Rapunzel, arms spread out around her. “Don’t even think about it.”

She couldn’t see his face, but Eugene’s voice was filled with enough fire to tell her how his eyes must have burned. Her instincts begged her to grab him; bury her face into his clothes and hang on until it all went away. But she still couldn’t move.

“ _ Hey,”  _ Hookhand’s deep voice boomed before he grabbed the eyepatched man’s shoulder and shoved him aside. “Don’t bother the lady. Do I have to—”

“It’s fine,” Eugene seethed, although his tone suggested it was anything  _ but  _ fine. “We’ll just leave.” He wrapped an arm around Rapunzel’s shoulder, and immediately the feeling swept back into her limbs. Although shaking, she was able to follow Eugene to the door.

Just before they could cross the threshold, Hookhand set a hand on Rapunzel’s arm. “Hey, you two are welcome back anytime. I’ll make sure these creeps don’t come around ever again. You got a safe place here.”

The panic clouding Rapunzel’s senses lifted enough for her to feel the warmth spreading through her chest at the man’s goodwill. She patted Hookhand’s cheek, “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means.”

For the first time since she’d met him, the burly man smiled wide. As Eugene ushered her out the door, Rapunzel couldn’t help but notice how Hookhand held his head a little higher.

Back out in the evening air, Rapunzel shivered under Eugene’s arm. Whether from the dropping temperature or the draining anxious adrenaline, she couldn’t tell. Either way, it took about two seconds tops for Eugene to drape his coat over her. The heavy wool and silky lining did wonders to clear Rapunzel’s mind.

Eugene walked them a good hundred feet from the pub before stepping in front of her. “Are you okay?” He whispered, leaning down slightly to assess her. Even in the dim streetlights, Rapunzel could hardly miss the gleam of fear in his eyes.

Rapunzel hugged the coat a little tighter around herself, trying her best to smile for him. “I’m fine, really. Thank you, Eugene.”

He immediately pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest like he didn’t dare touch her again. “Don’t thank me. I got you in a dangerous situation because of my screwed up past. You shouldn’t have been anywhere near that mess in the first place.”

“Eugene,” Rapunzel set a hand on his arm. “Your past doesn’t bother me. Nothing about you bothers me. I’m glad I get to be around you, whatever may happen.” She was surprised by her own words, but she didn’t stop herself; she meant all of it.

Eugene stared at the hand touching him for a long second before clearing his throat and shifting his stance so Rapunzel was forced to draw back. “We should get you home,” He mumbled, staring at the sidewalk. “It’s getting late.”

“My car’s back on campus,” Rapunzel replied, tucking her hand back inside the heavy coat. 

“Same. Guess we’re taking the bus back there, then.”

Rapunzel nodded. Silently, they walked side by side down the path to the station. 

Eugene’s words repeated in Rapunzel’s head through their quiet march.  _ My screwed up past.  _ That sounded all too familiar to something she had told herself only minutes before when Eugene had asked about her own history: that no one deserved to deal with her issues. And yet she had told Eugene that his problems didn’t bother  _ her _ —which was true. 

If that was true for him, then maybe the same was true for her as well. And if she was going to prove it to him, then she had to take the first leap of faith and trust his expressed concerns were just as genuine.

She just needed to find the perfect moment to take that leap, and hope he would be on the other side to catch her.

——

It took all of Eugene’s willpower not to pull Rapunzel close against the evening chill. Three times she shivered as they wound their way to the bus stop, and each time Eugene nearly had to slap his own hand to keep from wrapping his arm around her. No matter how small and frail —and frankly pitiful— she looked underneath his bulky coat, he wouldn’t have been any help to her. Eugene reminded himself, quite harshly, that he would no doubt find some way to just make things worse. Because that’s what he did best.

He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming in frustration at himself. Eugene had spent years trying to keep his past hidden away, but it still managed to creep up at the worst moments. And tonight had been one of those moments. Usually, if an odd memory —or odd person— weaseled their way into his life again, Eugene dealt with it himself head-on. His problem then, his problem now. He was a man of his own make who took matters into his own hands, which included the good and the bad. 

But Rapunzel...Rapunzel and her “Fate” got her caught in the middle of one of his old rivalries gone wrong. If Fate had really been leading Rapunzel to meet Eugene, then Fate made a huge mistake. So screw Fate, Eugene told himself. Rapunzel wasn’t going to get caught in the middle of his mess. She didn’t need that. 

The lights of the bus stop alcove flickered overhead with a short buzz. A gust of wind whistled past, disturbing the bare twisted trees lining the street. Rapunzel tucked her nose under the coat collar. Eugene pulled his hand away just before it grazed her shoulder. No; she didn’t need his touch.

The bus pulled in. The doors snapped open and a few stragglers found their way off before the crowd turning in for the Friday evening clamoured on. Eugene nearly lost Rapunzel in the throng, but managed to stay close enough to secure them a corner in the standing area. With a hiss the rickety doors shut and the bus resumed its route. 

Huddled up against the window, Eugene risked a side glance to check on his petite associate. Rapunzel was —almost comically— braced against the rocking and sudden stops. It didn’t take much to discern that Rapunzel was a little too short to reach the overhead bar Eugene held for support, and the available straps hanging down were already heavily occupied by others. The bus jerked again and Rapunzel nearly stumbled before catching the edge of Eugene’s sleeve.

A bolt of lightning shot through his nerves.  _ I shouldn’t touch her,  _ his brain screamed reflexively.

But that was a bit ridiculous, he immediately corrected. Rapunzel was about to topple over.

She quickly let go of his shirt sleeve, peeking up through her side-swept bangs in apology.

The faintest grin crossed Eugene’s lips before he could stop himself. He really did have a hard time resisting those bright green Bambi-eyes. He sighed, resigned, and held out his arm for her. “Go ahead.”

Rapunzel lit up and magnetized to his arm, hugging to him like he was her lifeboat. Eugene turned his face before she could catch his smile.

He tried to keep her at a distance; really, he did. But a few sharp turns, a couple stops, and Rapunzel somehow became cradled up against him. She still held a death-grip on his arm, but now he could feel her heartbeat rattling her small frame as her side pressed up against his. As much as he wanted to make sure she was safe and steady, a knife twisted deeper in Eugene’s gut the longer this closeness was maintained. She shouldn’t have been finding solace in his presence; he wasn’t exactly the best person for that.

When the bus finally pulled into the university station, Eugene internally sighed in relief. The way back to the parking lot was a simple path through the student gym. There was no need for him to keep Rapunzel close anymore. It would be a bit of an awkward walk in their continued silence, but he could deal with that well enough.

Late on a Friday evening, the gym was understandably barren. Aside from the occasional janitor and scattered athletes getting in last-minute practice, they were well alone in the spacious building.

Eugene rubbed the back of his neck; okay, so this was a  _ little  _ more awkward than he had anticipated. Maybe he should say something. Explain at least a little about his relationship with the Stabbingtons. But that would lead into the rest of why he was even mixed up with them in the first place, and what was there to say about that?  _ I was a messed-up person, I did a lot of stupid things, sorry I got you involved, probably best if we just keep each other at a distance— _

“Fancy a swim?” Rapunzel’s question cut through his thoughts.

“Quoi?”

Eugene turned to find Rapunzel a few steps back, looking to the slightly ajar door to the pool.

She cast him a lopsided grin. “I said, fancy a swim?”

Before he could ask for clarification, Rapunzel had slipped through the opening, already shedding the coat.

Eugene pursed his lips. Well, he couldn’t exactly just leave. That was still his coat. Reluctantly, he squeezed through after her.

Rapunzel was already standing by the pool edge, hands on her hips. “You interrupted my swim last week, and I certainly didn’t see  _ you  _ take a plunge. So, why don’t we try this again?”

Again, Eugene was left very confused with no explanation. 

Rapunzel rolled her eyes as though she couldn’t be any more obvious.

_ She could, _ Eugene thought.

And about two seconds later, she was. In the blink of an eye Rapunzel kicked off her shoes and jumped into the pool

Eugene threw his hands up over his face to protect himself from the splash. “What the—?!”

Rapunzel resurfaced, throwing her head back and sputtering but beaming.

“You—You just—?!” Eugene gaped.

“Come on!” Rapunzel swam back through the water. “It feels great!”

Eugene regained some of his vocabulary. “No thanks, I think I’ll hang out up here.”

“Aww come on, don’t be a party pooper,” Rapunzel came to rest her elbows on the edge of the pool with a spectacular pout. “I thought strippers were supposed to be  _ fun. _ ”

“I  _ am  _ fun,” Eugene protested, coming right up to the edge to meet her challenge. He squatted on his heels in front of her, absolutely in no way swayed by the Bambi-eyes this time. “I’m just not crazy enough to jump in a pool fully clothed—”

He didn’t catch her mischievous snicker in time. Rapunzel snatched his vest and yanked him over the side. Eugene barely had a chance to yelp before plunging head over heels into the water. 

Eugene gasped for air and splashed frantically to right himself. “ _ Crap  _ my hair!”

But Rapunzel had zero sympathy, already in fits. 

Eugene glared through the specks of water coating his glasses. “And now my shoes are gonna be waterlogged for days, are you happy?”

Rapunzel was nearly crying from laughter. “ _ Very!” _

Any annoyance Eugene might have had vanished instantly. He’d never seen her like this. So happy, so…

Free.

That word stuck in his mind. There was nothing quite so perfect to describe Rapunzel in this very moment. She was free. More free than anyone he’d ever seen. No restraints; so alive she practically glowed. 

If he hadn’t been treading water, he might have been floored. Eugene didn’t even know how to feel that alive. 

But maybe she could show him how.

Eugene surged through the water to her and swept the biggest wave possible right in her face. Rapunzel screamed and ducked but was rightly drenched. She wasted no time in retaliating. A game of chase began, splashing one another again and again. At some point Eugene finally ditched his shoes; and socks; and tie; and vest; and glasses. They were all ruined anyways, and were only getting in his way of exacting watery revenge on Rapunzel. 

The pair was right up in each other’s face, splashing again and again through taunts. Rapunzel managed to get a good one in his face —water up his nose and everything— but Eugene had one last play in his book. 

“Oh shoot, did you just hear a slam?”

Rapunzel stopped her attacks. “A slam?” She whirled around to the gym door.

“Yeah,” Eugene snatched her by the waist and lifted her high, “A slam  _ dunk!” _

Rapunzel screamed right before he sent them both careening into the water with a final grand splash. The water sloshed over the sides of the pool, soaking Eugene’s discarded coat.

But he didn’t care. Not when he couldn’t stop smiling and laughing, and Rapunzel was gripping his shoulders unable to suppress her own giggles. Eugene savored the short moment before she managed to get the hair out of her eyes, when the teal ripples reflected and danced across her flushed cheeks.

The moment her eyes met his, the cheer subsided. It didn’t die, so much as simply quiet. Eugene held her searching gaze. As much as he felt she was reading some hidden narrative in his eyes, he didn’t exactly think it best to look away. Rapunzel was looking for an answer, and Eugene didn’t want to deprive her of that, whatever the question might be. 

She bit her lip and tightened her grip on his white shirt. “I...I need to be honest with you, Eugene.”

He furrowed his brow but let her continue. 

“I told you I ran off last week because something was bothering me. I said it was nothing, but you told me that if something is bothering me, then it matters. I want to believe that.”

Her hands shook against his shoulder. Eugene realized he still held her waist, but now didn’t seem like the time to let go. 

She took a deep breath. “If...if you don’t want to hear, just let me know and I’ll stop but…I told you I was willing to listen. And I think the same is true for you too. So...I’m going to try.”

Despite her declaration, she still looked to Eugene for permission for whatever she was about to entrust him with. Eugene nodded, giving it.

Her breathing was shaky, but even so she beamed with gratitude. “Gosh, I really hope you don’t freak out….”

“Why would I freak out?” He whispered; for some reason, he felt the need to be a bit reverent and prevent any echo in the spacious room.

“Because….because my past isn’t pretty. And I haven’t really told anyone. My roommate knows some of it but...not the whole story.”

Eugene hoped she saw the unconditional acceptance in his smile. “I want to hear.”

She must have seen it, as she smiled in return. So she began, and Eugene listened. 

Rapunzel had been told all her life that her mother had passed away in childbirth, and her father’s grief was too much for him so he gave up to her mother’s sister. But on her eighteenth birthday, Rapunzel had figured out the truth. The woman who raised her —raised Rapunzel to believe she was her deceased mother’s sister, raised Rapunzel to call  _ her _ Mother… well, suffice to say the woman bore no relation, and Rapunzel was little more than a prisoner to her. 

Eugene reeled at the details of Rapunzel’s horribly manipulated childhood, to her sudden escape. Everything was making sense to Eugene. The resistance to using her last name as a professor; the lack of social media; the rush in her schooling. It all hid her from a captor Rapunzel knew was still out there, undoubtedly searching.

“How did you figure it out?” Eugene asked. “Figure out what was really going on?”

Rapunzel shrugged. “Things just started adding up. There were never any pictures of her and my mother together, even though she said they were ‘sisters.’ And just some inconsistencies throughout the years, until it finally dawned on me. She wasn’t my aunt; no way was she my  _ mother _ . Not how she had treated me. And I figured, if she had lied about all of that, what else was a lie?” 

Eugene resisted the urge to grip her tighter in the chill water. “Do you...do you think she’s still looking for you?”

Rapunzel shrugged. “Probably. She was so possessive, I can’t imagine her just giving up.”

“Why?” It was a legitimate question; why on earth would this woman want to kidnap an infant and warp her mind so thoroughly?

“I don’t know why,” Rapunzel’s jaw tightened, “And I don’t know if I really care. The only thing I care about when it comes to her is that she not not find me ever again. And if that means being practically invisible to the world, then I’ll live with it.”

The phrase made Eugene’s heart sink; how could Rapunzel just “live with” that, when she had so much potential to... _ live _ ? “Rapunzel,” the words spilled out before he could think it through, “You deserve more than that.”

Rapunzel’s eyes snapped to his like she’d never heard that phrase before. Usually, Eugene would have felt a flush of embarrassment at the sharp reaction to his candidness but...he couldn’t deny that it felt good to say. Maybe he was a screw-up whose friendship would only get Rapunzel in trouble, but maybe it was worth it if he could at least crack the walls holding her back. 

Almost as if… he was  _ meant _ to help her see herself in a different light.

Before he could get carried away on that notion, Rapunzel smirked humorlessly and twisted a stand of damp hair in her fingers. “Well, thank you. Maybe the decision to cut and dye my hair wasn’t so bad then.” 

“Wait, what color are you naturally?”

“...blonde.”

Eugene's jaw dropped. “You’re  _ blonde?!” _

Rapunzel quirked an eyebrow. “Is that surprising?”

“A little bit, since you make an  _ amazing  _ brunette.”

Rapunzel smacked his shoulder. “Flatterer.”

“I mean it!” Eugene insisted without a trace of irony. “Honest, I never would have guessed you were actually blonde. You look like a natural brunette.”

Rapunzel stifled a giggle. “Well, thank you. And thank you again.” She averted her gaze. “For…um...for listening.”

A warmth filled him, even in the cool water. “I’ll always listen, Rapunzel.”

She searched his eyes again, but this time she seemed to find her answer. She threw her arms around his neck in a bear hug and Eugene’s brain nearly short circuited. As her face buried into his wet shirt, all he could think was…

... _ this isn’t so bad. _

Eugene returned the embrace as best he could in his shock. Some part of him said that he shouldn’t be holding her, but that couldn’t be true. She’d hugged him first, and the world seemed a little better for it. 

It took a good minute before Rapunzel pulled away, wicking a few tears from her cheeks. They slogged their way out of the pool —Rapunzel weighing about ten pounds more in her soaked sweater. 

“So if you’re actually blonde,” Eugene said, retrieving his thoroughly soaked accessories. “Would you mind if I called you Blondie?”

Rapunzel nearly snorted a laugh. “Blondie?”

“Yeah? Because you’re—”

“No, I get the nickname,” Rapunzel chuckled, “But is there a reason you wanna give me one?”

Eugene ran a hand through his ruined hair. “Not particularly. Just thought it might be fun.”

Rapunzel considered it for a moment. “You can call me Blondie, but  _ only  _ if I get to meet Max.”

“Alright, fine. You can meet Max sometime. Don’t blame me when he barrels you over... _ Blondie _ .”

A burst of laughter came from her at the nickname, and Eugene couldn’t be more proud. As much fun as it was to make her frown in annoyance, putting a smile on Rapunzel’s face was infinitely more rewarding. 

As they bantered back and forth, winding their way out of the gym to the parking lot, Eugene was still thoroughly awed. Rapunzel had trusted him with some of the darkest parts of her past; him, someone who was little more than an acquaintance a few hours ago. She had trusted him to accept and keep her secrets. Eugene had to ask himself; did he trust her in the same way?

Yes. There was no doubt about it in his mind. He trusted Rapunzel. 

Maybe he should act on that trust as well, he realized.

As Eugene waved goodbye, watching Rapunzel drive from the parking lot, he couldn’t help but repeat to himself:

_ This really isn’t so bad. _

_...I think I want this. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is a project that has been in the works for months now, and I am so so grateful to all the people who have supported me the whole way! This is a very important story for me, so I hope you enjoy this crazy ride with me!


End file.
